


A Shoulder To Lean On

by YaelaTheWordsmith



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: All the fluff you need, Bromance, Canon Compliant, Family, Friendship, Gen, Heartwarming fluff (or I tried), Miscellaneous interactions, More Fluff, Mostly non linear timeline, Occasional OCs but they will be mentioned in the notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-05-10 11:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 73,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14736224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaelaTheWordsmith/pseuds/YaelaTheWordsmith
Summary: A series of assorted one/two/(maybe)threeshots inspired by rewatching Haikyuu!! a couple of months ago, many involving Yachi because she's an adorable fluff bunny.  OCs will be mentioned beforehand so you can avoid if they're not your thing.Feel free to skip around until you hit a chapter you like - each is summarized at the beginning so you can decide if it's worth your time. If you're weak for dorky HQ family feels, this is for you! Relationships aren't really the focus, but there will be hints in the background. Prompts are welcome! (On hiatus until the New Riders is done, because otherwise I'll never get it done.)





	1. A Shoulder To Lean On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Hitoka sees Kageyama hurrying away with an odd expression on his face, and tries to help. Sometimes even kings need shoulders to lean on - and some advice.
> 
> My take on his fear of rejection. KageYachi friendship, slightly fluffy - because how can there possibly be no fluff with an adorable dork like Kageyama? 
> 
> Takes place around the middle of their second year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! We start with a friendship fic - vulnerable Kageyama (Shadow Mountain, I just realised! How cool is that?) and indignant Yachi. Started off with an image of her hugging him when he's curled up and sad, and just kind of went from there. Very minor OCs present.
> 
> And now - on to the story. My first foray into the beautiful Haikyuu! fandom! Yayyyy! :3

 

⸶⸷

Hitoka placed her chopsticks back in the box and snapped it shut with a satisfied sigh. She’d finished the homework she hadn’t done the day before (she was usually a fairly diligent student, but she had been busy confirming the details of the next training camp with Takeda sensei) and in record time too. She’d even been able to finish her lunch with twenty minutes of lunch break to spare. She stretched her arms over her head and then relaxed into her chair, wondering if she should go over to Hinata’s class, or Yamaguchi’s, and spend the rest of the break with them. She’d told them not to disturb her because she had work to do, so they might be busy with something else . . . but even if they were practising volleyball she could throw for them, and they would welcome her. Or should she just stay here? It was a cool, bright day, and she could just relax and look out of the window.

She looked around the class for a moment. Shiori, Ayane and Natsuki were laughing together; mmm, she could join them, but she was feeling kind of lazy. Reina was lounging in her chair like a queen, with her usual gang clustered around her. Hitoka’s nose wrinkled; she wasn’t going to go anywhere near them. Her gaze drifted to the corridor, and she happened to catch sight of a figure with dark hair striding hastily past the first door. She frowned slightly - was it? As he passed the other door she looked more carefully, and - yes, it was Kageyama.

Plans for relaxation entirely forgotten, she sat upright in her chair, frowning harder. His expression had been - unusual, to say the least. She’d never seen that look on his face before. Should she go after him? Would that be a good idea . . .?

Warring impulses kept her frozen still for five heartbeats; then she sprang to her feet. If he didn’t want her around he would tell her, and if he did she would regret not having gone after him.

She hurried out of the classroom and looked down the hall. He was walking at a brisk pace, and was already nearly lost in the mass of jostling students spending their  lunch break in the corridors. She hurried after him, but his legs were longer than hers, and he was faster. He never seemed to get any closer, and she began to worry about losing him. Then he took a sharp right turn and began to climb the stairs.

 _Huh?_ That staircase led only to the roof, and everyone knew it was always kept locked. The only time people climbed this staircase was . . . was . . .

. . . when they had arranged to spend some time canoodling with their boyfriend or girlfriend on the shady, deserted landing.

She shook her head, trying to cast off her reservations, and kept walking. Kageyama didn’t have a girlfriend as far as she knew, and if he did he wouldn’t go to meet her with an expression like that. Unless he was breaking up with her? Or rejecting a confession?

 _I’m letting my imagination run away with me again,_ Hitoka told herself firmly. _Kageyama-kun has never been involved in anything like that. Besides, if I hear anyone else I’ll just slip away, and no one will be the wiser_

She nodded firmly and began to climb the staircase, though more slowly, not wanting to inadvertently stumble into an awkward situation. But as she got closer to the landing she heard no other voices. The sound of her shoes on the staircase seemed to become unnaturally loud, and she took each step with care, trying to make less noise..

She was nearly at the top now, and she couldn’t see Kageyama. Confused, she paused at the step before the last, and suddenly spotted him sitting hunched over, with his back against the wall and his head on his knees, tucked under his arms.

He didn’t look up as she hesitantly came closer. She paused for a moment, then crouched down in front of him - she didn’t want him to be looking up at her when he saw her, that wouldn’t feel right.

“Kageyama-kun?” she said softly.

His head shot up instantly, his eyes wide.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” Somehow she felt like she should still be speaking softly, carefully, so she used the same hushed tone.

He blinked at her. Then his expression settled back into the one he had had before - and -

She had only caught two brief glimpses before, and those had been enough to send her running after him. Now, up close, it was far worse.

She wasn’t particularly good with words -  but if she had to pick one word to describe his expression, she would choose ‘breaking’. And she hated how accurate a description it was.

Before she knew what she was doing, her arms were moving up and apart, offering comfort. It was a completely instinctive motion, one that her mother always used to meet her with when she had come home crying about tripping up or mean classmates. She caught herself halfway, and flushed. Kageyama was calmly polite at best and furiously scathing at worst. He was definitely not a touchy-feely person. What must he think of her? Soft, definitely pathetic, offering mushy comfort he didn’t need, that she should have known he would dismiss -

But he didn’t look offended or disgusted. He just looked at her blankly for a moment, confusedly, as though he was trying to decipher the meaning behind her action. So she swallowed and held her arms still, telling herself, _I’ll wait three seconds - If he doesn’t move or speak I’ll just pretend it never happened. One . . . Two . . ._

Her arms were already beginning to drop, and she might have actually dropped them completely if she hadn’t caught a slight flicker of motion - he had leaned forward just the tiniest bit.

She lifted her arms higher, wider, hoping frantically she was doing the right thing, searching his face desperately for clues that would tell her so. He met her eyes with his own - torn, dull, _hurt_ \- and then something in them seemed to give way, and, ever so slowly - like he was giving up, letting go - he leaned forward to rest his head on her shoulder.

There was only that single point of contact; the rest of him was still hunched over, curled inwards, held tight. She carefully placed one arm around his shoulder, and the other below that, across the middle of his back, and held him.

It wasn’t very long before his breathing began to change. It had been fiercely quiet before; now it was getting louder, more irregular, like he was choking on every breath, like it would take nothing to tip them over into sobs. But when she squeezed him gently and, she hoped, reassuringly, he seemed to catch himself, and gradually began to quiet down. They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Hitoka’s thighs began to ache from the awkward crouch. She began to worry that she hadn't put on enough deodorant that day, that her palms were becoming too sweaty, that she might sneeze and ruin the moment because of how Kageyama’s hair was tickling her nose, that he was beginning to think of how to politely extricate himself from her arms . . .

But he remained there until the bell rang, whereupon he jerked back from her shoulder with a start. Hitoka watched him worriedly as he leaned back, and when he stood she did the same. She wasn't going to talk unless he did. He had always seemed like a very private person to her, one who had trouble opening up - he'd only just gotten comfortable with high fives from Tanaka-senpai, for heaven’s sake - and she wasn't about to overstep her boundaries.

He avoided her eyes, keeping them trained on the floor. “Sorry,” he said gruffly, so quietly she almost couldn't hear. And then he headed down the stairs.

Hitoka watched him go, stretching out her legs, and wondering what that could have been about. Well . . . if he wanted to tell her he would. _And if he just needed a shoulder to lean on for sometime, I’m glad I was there for him,_ she told herself firmly. _And I might be very curious, but I am_ not _going to ask him. I’m going to respect his privacy. That’s what I’m going to do._

And she hurried down the stairs, deliberately thinking about what to make for dinner that night so that she wouldn’t be tempted to change her mind.

 

⸶⸷

 

“ . . . if they continue like this we're going to do very well at the training camp!” Takeda-sensei said enthusiastically. “The first years are shaping up well too, aren't they, Ukai-kun?”

“Well enough,” Coach Ukai agreed. “They're excited for their first training camp, too. By the way, Yachi-san, have they all confirmed?”

Hitoka flipped through the papers in her clipboard. “I think . . . All except Tsukishima-kun. And Serizawa-kun from the first years.”

Ukai grunted. “Tsukishima will come. He won’t bunk if Yamaguchi’s coming, and our new wing spiker definitely needs more training, so his cold friend won’t stay behind. Serizawa . . . I’ve been thinking that he might actually be good to take Sawamura’s old position. His receives are shaping up well. He definitely needs to come, too. Can you convince him, Yachi-san?”

“Huh? Oh-” Hitoka hastily dragged her eyes away from the court. “He really wants to come, Coach, it’s just that his parents are a bit apprehensive. I’m sure they’ll come around in time, though. You don’t need to worry!”

Ukai gave her an approving nod before turning to Takeda with a question about Hinata’s marks. Hitoka let her gaze wander back to Kageyama. He seemed normal enough, if a bit more curt than usual, and he didn’t seem to be playing at anything less than his usual level of skill. But he wasn’t arguing with Hinata - or anyone else - anywhere near as much. It was like he could barely muster the energy to appear normal, let alone argue.

They took a break just then, and as Kageyama raised a bottle of water to his lips his eyes caught hers across the gym. Hitoka flushed and looked away hastily - then glanced back for a moment. To her surprise, Kageyama looked just as discomfited. He firmly turned away and took a long drink of water.

Mentally slapping herself, Hitoka vowed she wouldn’t bother him again. She listened to Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei’s conversation, she got all the players their towels, she helped Nishinoya find his knee pads when he thought they were lost, and she tossed balls for Kageyama, Kinoshita and Okumura, a first year, to set to Hinata, Tanaka, Narita, Yamaguchi and Akiyama, another first year. On the other side of the net, Nishinoya, Serizawa, Tsukishima, Ennoshita, and the first year who’d joined the latest, Suzuki-kun, received the spikes.

Practice went by fast, as it always did. Before she knew it, it was seven thirty and the members had put everything away. Coach Ukai called for them to gather around, and then nodded to Hitoka.

“Um, so I’m sure you all remember, but we’re heading to Tokyo next weekend for four days of training camp. It’s going to be only Nekoma, Seizen and Ubugawa this time - Fukurodani can’t attend. Tsukishima-kun and Serizawa-kun, I still haven’t received your permission forms, and I need them as soon as possible so we can inform the Tokyo schools about our numbers and bedding requirements.”

Tsukishima nodded once. “I’ll bring it by tomorrow.”

“Thank you . .  Serizawa-kun?”

He looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck, his brown hair flopping into his eyes. “Eh, you know how it is with me, Yachi-san . . .”

“Would it help if I spoke to your parents personally?”

Serizawa valiantly ignored the outbreak of sniggering this triggered, as did Hitoka. “It actually might, Yachi-san. Could you come by tomorrow after school? Today we’re seeing off some guests, so-”

She nodded. “That’s fine.”

“That’s our Yacchan!” Nishinoya grinned. “Always dependable!”

A few months ago the comment would have flustered her. Now she just blushed slightly with pleasure and waved the comment away, retorting, “But you’d still like to have Shimizu-senpai back even if it meant getting rid of me, right, Noya-senpai?”

There was a low ripple of laughter, and Nishinoya grinned embarrassedly in a way that screamed _Yes, of course! Ahh, Shimizu-senpai!_

Coach Ukai smiled slightly. “Well, that’s all your manager has for you today. You lot did well today - keep it up, especially you first years. Okay? Right, see you tomorrow.”

A loud chorus of ‘Ossu!’ filled the air as they all got to their feet and began to pack up. Hitoka stowed her own things away and slung her bag across her shoulders, deciding to walk home in her gym clothes today. It was chilly anyway, and wearing a skirt would not be a good idea. She’d take a bath as soon as she got home, though, she was kind of stinky . . .

“Yachi-san!” Hinata yelled, running up to her. “I’m sorry I can't walk with you today! I need to go buy something stuff for my mother and I’ll make you late!”

“That’s fine, Hinata,” she smiled. “I don’t mind walking by myself.”

“Okay!”

Yamaguchi, who had been standing nearby, said, “Uh, Yachi-san, if you don’t mind, I could-”

“Yachi-san.”

Hitoka squeaked and turned around. Kageyama was standing right behind her, a determined expression in his eyes.

“Do you mind if I walk with you? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Uh - s-sure, Kageyama-kun,” she stammered.

He nodded and headed towards the door. Hitoka, heart still beating fast with surprise, turned to say goodbye to Yamaguchi and Hinata, both of whom were staring at her, dumbstruck. She flushed at their expressions. “See you tomorrow!” she said hastily, and hurried after Kageyama, who was waiting for her just outside the doors.

 _Ahh, I don’t think I’ve ever been alone with Kageyama-kun before,_ she thought. _This is kind of weird . . ._ She sneaked a glance at his hard profile. _He looks - like he’s trying really hard to look calm. I shouldn’t mess this up by saying anything careless. I’ll let him speak first._

And so they walked in silence, they only sounds of passing cars from the road and the tree-frogs chirping. They traversed the school campus and had stepped onto the pavement before he spoke.

“I want to apologize - once more - for what happened at lunchtime,” he said, the words terse, his eyes facing forward fiercely. “I shouldn’t have - I took advantage of your kindness. I’m grateful - and I’m sure you felt uncomfortable about it.”

She glanced up at him for a moment, then looked back at the road. “If I didn’t want it, I wouldn’t have offered, Kageyama-kun,” she said. “And you don’t owe me an explanation. If you’d rather not talk about it, I understand.”

“No, I do owe you an explanation. And I think - I need to talk about this to someone. That is - if you don’t mind? Listening?”

“Of course I don’t,” she said, infusing her voice with as much warmth as she could. “I would be glad to.”

He nodded once, still avoiding her gaze. They walked on in silence for a minute or so before he brought himself to speak once more.

“Do you - have you heard that I used to be called the King of the Court?”

“I have, yes.”

“Do you know why?”

She hesitated, then said, “I've heard some vague stories. I know you don't like it much when Tsukishima-kun calls you that . . .”

He let out a long breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The name was - not complimentary. My junior high volleyball teammates gave me the title. Because I was selfish. I tossed high and fast, setting up the ball for spikes that would get past the blockers, that would blow them away, but - those spikes were not perfect for the spikers. They could never hit them. Too high. Too fast. And so the ball never reached the other side of the net. When they called me King of the Court, they really meant . . . tyrant. And I . . .” He rubbed his face, trying to warm it. “I didn't hear them until it was too late. I told them 'Move faster! Jump higher!’ I couldn't understand why their will to win was lesser than mine. But it wasn't. They wanted to win, of course - until they stepped on the court with me. My demands led to them turning their backs on me in the middle of a game. In the middle of a _match_. I tossed, and there was no one there to spike. They all watched the ball fall to the floor, and just glared at me.They - rebelled. Against their tyrant king.”

 _Blunt as ever_ , she thought. _But-_

“You don't sound particularly upset,” she noted softly.

“I’m not. That is how I was. That is what I did. I don’t blame them.” Kageyama looked down at his shoes, and for a moment or so, there was no sound but that of their shoes on the pavement. Then he said, quietly, “When I came to Karasuno, I was determined to do better. To do anything as long as I could keep playing volleyball. On the first day, though . . . I ran into Hinata in the gym.” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “He was horrified to see me. I didn’t feel exactly the same, but - just kind of - argh, that damn annoying guy is here? The one who played with that horrible team in junior high, who has no skills apart from jumping?

“But he turned out to be the only one who could hit my fastest toss. Yachi-san, I don’t know how to explain to you . . . how that felt. The confidence it gave me. He could keep up. He could spike anything. He had the same drive I did. And he would never, never abandon a toss - abandon - _me_ \- because he was just grateful to get the ball. To score a point. It was like - he was the best teammate I could have asked for. Well - volleyball wise. He’s still an annoying little shrimp.”

Hitoka gave a soft giggle, trying to ignore the oddly warm feeling blooming in her chest at his unusually open words.

“If it wasn’t for him . . .” Kageyama kicked at a rock that came in the way of his shoe. “I doubt I would have become as open with everyone else. I wouldn’t have made those connections with them that are so essential to playing a good game, to building a good team. Or I wouldn’t have made them as soon. I think I still would have made an effort to be as cordial as possible with them, of course, but - all that - high fives and calling each other cool and heroes and complimenting each other on good receives and serves -”

“I know.”

“They’re - well, not second nature now, but I can do them. Without feeling overly conscious. Hinata played a major part in opening that up for me, though, and he paved the way for my good rapport with the team. We’re like - a family? And I don’t know what my place in it would have been - if he hadn’t been there.”

Hitoka kept quiet, listening to the rough cadence of his voice, the warmth in her chest becoming more intense. She felt amazingly honoured that he was trusting her with this. But she couldn’t help wondering wondering whether he was going to continue in this vein, when he was going to get to what had been bothering him. Or was it related to Hinata? Had some problem come up between them? But they had seemed perfectly normal -

“I haven’t really had - a place. Anywhere.”

That made her look at him. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and then looked down again, flushing slightly. “I don’t - you and Hinata are - bright people. You make - the people around you feel - happy about being around you. You’re -” he gestured awkwardly with one hand, trying to find the words. “- kind of . . . chirpy,” he finished lamely. Hitoka looked down, fighting the awkward smile spreading across her face. What on earth was she to reply to that?

Just then, she realized that the bus stop they had crossed a minute ago was the one she took the bus home from. “Oh! Um - sorry to interrupt, but we kind of passed the stop I catch the bus from. Do you mind if we turn back?”

“Oh, yeah, of course . . .”

He followed her back in silence, and when she sat down on the metal seat he followed suit on her left. The brief interlude seemed to have allowed him time to regain his composure. He glanced at her, and she nodded encouragingly.

“You were saying I’m kind of chirpy,” she grinned, and he gave her a half smile.

“Well. Yes. Um. The point I was trying to make is - I don’t know how to be like that. How to make people like me. Want to be around me.”

She waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “But why do you need to be like that, Kageyama-kun? Sawamura-senpai wasn’t. Asahi-senpai wasn’t.”

“Daichi-san was strong, and reliable, and he motivated us all. Asahi-san was quieter, but he was kind and motivated us in his own way. And he had a - kind of a core of determination. Encouraging him and supporting him was enjoyable, because as the ace, we all wanted him to do well. To live up to the standards he had promised to deliver.”

“Shimizu-senpai? A lot of people have told me that she was very quiet and kind of standoffish before I joined.”

He snorted. “Everyone liked Shimizu-senpai because of her - uh. You know. She was pretty.”

“Okay, then what about Tsukishima-kun?”

“Urgh. He’s still insufferable.”

“But he’s very much part of the family that you were talking about, earlier. Nobody blames him for his attitude - that’s just how he is. Everyone knows they can rely on him when they need to. As they rely on you, and trust you -”

“But that's in the club! With the team! Nowhere else!”

_Ahh . . . I think I see._

“Is that the problem, Kageyama-kun?” she asked quietly.

He leaned his elbows of his knees and pushed his face into his hands, letting out a kind of frustrated groan. She just watched him, waiting for him to tell her.

He huffed a breath in that peculiarly exasperated way he had, and slowly lowered his hands, clutching them together in his lap instead. “Like I said . . . I've never really had a place. My only place in the world, the only place where I can possibly fit, is on the volleyball court. On a volleyball team. And even there - well, I told you about Kitagawa Daiichi. Outside of the court - people tell me I'm more polite than others my age. That's because being polite is _safe_ . I can't be like Hinata, always saying the first thing that comes into his mind; I can't be like you, always kind, always helpful, always encouraging; I can't be like - like Oikawa-san, acting silly yet still strong, still commanding respect; I can't be like Daichi-san, who leads everyone so effortlessly; I can't even be like goddamn Tsukishima, who's an asshole but knows it and doesn't care what people think of him. I’m always the odd one out in class, _that boy_ with the stony face and the weird glare who’s always too serious. Who doesn’t know how to smile. It's like - I'm missing some instructions on how to deal with the world. With people. I default to politeness because it's the _one thing_ that can't go wrong, ever. But otherwise I'm - blunt and rude and I just shout - I was rude to Hinata within hours of meeting him for the first time, do you know that? I just can't seem to get it right, get _people_ right -”

“Kageyama-kun!” She laid a tentative hand on his back as he stopped short. His voice, raised to loudness in hurt and exasperation, seemed to remain in the air for a moment, like it was still echoing off the road. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

His shoulder twitched as though to throw her hand off, and his mouth twisted, but he didn’t try to dispute the sentiment, and he took a long, deliberate breath. When he exhaled she could feel the muscles in his back relaxing and settling. She left her hand there for a moment more, fascinated by the motion, the feeling, then removed it.

“Before I answer - all that . . . Can I ask you a question?”

He looked at her frowningly, then gave a short nod.

“I understand how you feel, I really do. I was just wondering . . . Don’t take this as an insult, Kageyama-kun, but you don’t seem like you ever worry about this kind of stuff. You don’t seem like - it would matter to you.” She gave an awkward smile. “It’s like anything outside volleyball wouldn’t matter to you. Anyway, my question is - how long have you been worrying about this?”

“Not - since I came to Karasuno, I stopped worrying as much. I told you - feeling like part of a family -” She nodded. “It’s just been - since this school year started. I mean, it’s not like, last year, I made really good friends in class or anything, but there was no one I couldn’t talk to. No one who seemed to hate me or anything. But this year there’s - you know Tachibana?”

She could see him instantly. Slightly tall, with a mop of blonde hair that he kept artistically rumpled, and almost oozing confidence. He was charismatic, and he tried to be kind in his own way, but he got offended easily, and whatever he said was law. Always. People were blinded by his utter self confidence and never stood up to him whenever he did or said something ridiculous, and so he always carried it off. And he wasn’t the most emotionally stable person, either. He’d been in her class, last year. She’d seen him become furious with another classmate, Saito-kun, and for the whole day poor Saito-kun had been an outcast. Then the next day Tachibana had decided to forgive him with a rough punch and an hasty, “Okay, let’s forget about the whole thing. Are you coming to lunch or what?” And the next instant he had been utterly charming. She’d found him - well, kind of dazzling, but overpowering, and more than slightly terrifying, and she really didn’t like how he treated people. She’d always tried to keep out of his way.

“Yes,” she said, her voice going dangerously quiet in a way it almost never did. “He was in my class last year. What did he do?”

“He decided he doesn’t like me.”

Hitoka’s breath hissed out. Kageyama looked at her, startled.

“I understand,” she said, her voice now hard..

He looked back down at his hands. “Yeah. It’s like junior high all over again . . .And Hinata isn’t in my class, now. He would know how to fight Tachibana, but . . . he isn’t there. And it’s like - Hinata is all brightness and sparks, and I’m something cold. Steel, maybe? We kind of balance each other. But when he isn’t there, it’s like I’m just falling further into darkness, becoming colder, without him to pull me out.”

Hitoka gaped for a moment, a mixture of emotions briefly trumping the anger in her heart. Kageyama-kun was being - so open with her. She’d never realized he trusted her this much.

_I don’t know what on earth I did to gain his trust, but - ah, I’m really glad he decided I deserve it._

She shook her head slightly, pushing away the - twisted mix of sympathy-sorrow-compassion - that was making her throat close up, and tried to think of how to reply. The first thing that came to her mind was, “You really depend on him, huh?”

He looked slightly grumpy at that, more like the Kageyama she was used to seeing when Hinata did something silly. “It’s not that I _depend_ on him. I just trust him in a lot of ways, for a lot of things. He’s like -”

“- your partner.” She felt embarrassed by his startled expression, and tried to wave it away. “Hinata told me something like that, once. Kageyama-kun . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Did something happen today? Specifically? With Tachibana?”

“Uh . . . no. He was absent today. It was kind of _because_ it wasn’t him - his little gang were there, and they surrounded me and . . . it was really stupid, what they were taunting me for, and it was everything all over again - grade school, middle school, junior high. I mean I was never really bullied, but there was always this unspoken current of -” He broke off. When he continued, his voice was subdued. “And they were so blatant about it. ‘You just sit by yourself all day long, you think you’re better than us? Urgh, you always look like you’ve swallowed a lemon; don’t try smiling, though, your smiles are worse than your glares . . . You’re such an asshole, no one in this class has ever heard a kind word from you-’ Like that. And it just kind of - hit me all at once - I always thought they did all that because Tachibana egged them on. I mean, I wasn’t so bad, right? Or else my classmates last year would have hated me too. And Daichi-san wouldn't have let me back in the gym. And Tanaka-senpai wouldn’t praise me, and Nishinoya san would hit me on the head far more often. I thought it was just this asshole’s skewed view of me, so I just shut up and took it. But he wasn’t even there, and they were just as - so there must really be something wrong with m-”

“ _Don't_ say that. Don't you _dare_ say that, Kageyama-kun. There is _nothing_ wrong with you, you hear me?” Hitoka said forcefully.

He blinked at her.

“You know what startled me? You said you can't be kind like me. And the first thing I thought was ‘wait, but he already is’! You remember when we went to Tokyo for a week? When I had just joined as manager? I thought you had started to hate Hinata - all that time you were practicing the falling toss on your own, away from him. But when he told you 'I want to hit that toss!’ I didn't expect your reaction at all! That was when I realised that you were actually trying to respect him, to perfect the toss so that he could hit it without faltering! And in that match a month ago, when we couldn't seem to shift the point gap - you made a point of complimenting every single player and trying to keep their spirits up, even though you normally aren't very comfortable with that. And when Nekoma came over - when Inuoka cuddled up to you in his sleep and drooled on you, you didn't tell anyone, not a _single_ person. And when Saeko-neesan fell sick and had to stay in bed for more than two weeks you went with everyone when they went to meet her and you left her a container of amazing soup - she told me it was one of the best things she'd ever had and she was sure it helped her get better quickly and -” She paused for breath, chest heaving, eyes still flashing.

He looked dumbstruck “H- hey, that was my mom's soup, she just sent it with me and - how do you know about Inuoka?”

“ _The point here_ is the you are a kind person. You care about other people. You help them. I could keep going with the list of kind things you've done, all right? So don't tell me you’re not a good person.”

His mouth was slightly open, but he managed to nod. “O-okay . . .If you say so?”

“I do,” she nodded firmly. “Now . . . the second thing you need to understand is that you were right about Tachibana and his gang. It _is_ just their perception of you. Anyone who has seen you during club hours, in a game, even when you’re just talk to the rest of the team - no one who has seen any of that could doubt that you are a good friend, a good teammate.”

“Yachi-san, that’s still - only volleyball. I’m not going to be playing for the rest of my life. What’s the point of people liking how I am on the court? I can’t always be on the court, right? How do I deal with people then?”

She didn’t speak for a moment, getting her answer clear in her mind. Then she said,”Would you mind if I’m - a bit blunt?”

He looked confused. “No, of course not.”

“Okay. Now - I’m going to tell you what I think of you, okay? I might be wrong, of course, so there’s no reason to take what I say as the truth. And I don’t want to be presumptuous. But if it'll help -”

“Please go ahead, Yachi-san. I won’t be offended.”

She nodded. “Okay, then. Kageyama-kun, I don’t believe that there's anything in your values or morals that can cause others to dislike you. Like I said, you're a good person, a kind person, a determined person. You’re also not an arrogant person, or else everyone calling you the genius setter would have made you -” she couldn’t help smiling, “- insufferable by now. In my opinion, it takes time for you to see your own faults, but when you do see them, you have the quality of - you have the drive to improve yourself. I heard Coach say, once, that that's one of your best qualities. This also applies to how you see other people. It might take you some time to understand why they act as they do, but once you do you're able to analyze your understanding really well, and figure out how to deal with them as effectively as you can. And every time you do this, you get better at dealing with people of all kinds. So it’s just a communication problem you have, at the beginning. Does that make sense to you? Or am I completely wrong . . ?”

With a shock of joy, she saw that the look of pain that had persisted till now had vanished. He was frowning a little, completely focused on what she was saying.

“That . . . does make sense. But - what exactly is my communication problem?”

“I think . . . your bluntness? When you find a fault with someone, you don’t hesitate to state it loudly and directly. That’s something some people might not appreciate.”

He frowned a little deeper at that. “Hinata is just as blunt as I am, and he doesn’t have a communication problem,” he pointed out.

“That’s true . . .”  she tapped a finger on her knee, thinking. “The difference between you and Hinata is . . . I think your enthusiasm?”

“I could never be as enthusiastic as him, Yachi-san. If that’s the only way to -”

“No, no it’s not! Look-” She shifted on the bench to face him, gesturing emphatically to make him understand. “You don’t have to be like Hinata at all. You don’t have to be like anyone but yourself. We’re just trying to figure out why his bluntness is better received, right? And I think - it’s maybe because - he’s blunt about everything, good things and bad. He can say ‘Kageyama, that was an amazing toss!’ or ‘Kageyama, you eat too much fugashi!’ equally easily.“

“But I don’t even like fugashi that much-”

“It’s just an example, Kageyama-kun! The point is, since he’s so open about everything, people always know that he’s saying things honestly, not with malice, even if it’s something that they don’t like to hear. Do you get it?

“I guess so. So basically, I should say more nice things to people?”

“Well, not just randomly - the goal is to get you to become as comfortable with complimenting people as, you know. Telling them when they’re wrong. So yes, try to say what you think when you have a compliment to give. But!” She held up a finger. “To people _outside_ volleyball club. Because there you’re already used to complimenting people. Right? So if you could get used to it in the same way with classmates, or shopkeepers - so could you try to give me an example?”

“An example?”

“Yeah. Tell me anything good you thought about a classmate recently.”

“Well . . . uh . . . “ He looked blank. “Maybe . . . yesterday, Kamitani dyed his hair? And I guess it looks kind of cool?”

“You’re on good enough terms to tell him that, right? So go ahead and tell him.”

“Hm. Okay. What else can I do?” He looked at her with the air of an audience member expecting a magician to pull a rabbit out of her hat. It made her feel slightly abashed, and rather more flattered, but that was secondary to her overwhelming determination to give him the best advice possible, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about this issue again.

She paused for a moment, thinking. “So . . . right, so complimenting people more helps you build a solid foundation for a friendship, because it shows that you appreciate them. But to sustain it, you need to learn to be sensitive to them, and you need to learn how they would like you to be towards them. For example-” she racked her brain for a suitable situation. “Okay, lets say Tsukishima and Yamaguchi ask you to teach them how do a jump serve. Okay?”

“Okay.” He tilted his head slightly, confused, but listening intently.

“So you teach them. Then a week later, Tsukishima tells you that he’s been practicing, but he can’t get it, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to do a jump serve properly. What would you tell him?”

“I’d. . . I’d tell him he’s being an idiot, that he can do it because even short guys can and he’s tall - that all he needs to do is keep practicing instead of dithering about it like the dumbass he is. And I could show it to him a couple more times, I guess.”

Hitoka grinned at this answer. “Okay, now what about if Yamaguchi comes to you with the same problem?”

“I’d tell him the same thing, of course.” He looked at her quizzically.

“But would that encourage Yamaguchi to practice more and pull him out of his dejection? Would he be fired up and truly believe he can do a jump serve?”

“Wouldn’t it?” he said helplessly.

“See, Kageyama-kun, Yamaguchi-kun is a softer person than Tsukishima-kun. What Tsukishima-kun would accept and understand isn’t the same as what Yamaguchi-kun would. Telling him that he’s a - a dithering dumbass and that he should just go and practice more - he might actually do it, but he would probably feel worse, and the next time he faces a setback, he might give up all together.”

He looked slightly ashamed of himself. “That makes sense, I guess . . “

“So how would you rephrase it?”

“Um . . . uhh . . . ‘Yamaguchi, you’re the only one of us who can do a jump float serve. So you can do this as well. Just keep practicing.’ Um . . . ‘It took me a long time to master it as well, so . . . so don’t worry about it.’ Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect!” Hitoka clapped her hands joyfully. “That’s excellent, Kageyama-kun! So like that, everyone needs a different approach. And the way you say something makes a huge difference to how people react to you. You could say something in a blunt way and get punched - or you might say the same thing kindly and get thanked.”

“Ohh, I see.” he nodded seriously. “Thank you, Yachi-san.”

“Also there’s one more thing . . .” She flushed slightly.

“What is it?”

“Ah, well, you . . . kind of have a temper, don’t you?”

She looked at him anxiously, but he didn’t take offence, he simply agreed, “Yeah, I kind of do.”

“Well, trying to control that a bit would also help people respond to you better. When you feel like you’re going to start yelling, just try to take a deep breath and wait for three seconds. Think about whether you can say the same thing calmly. I'm sure that would really help.”

“Got it. So . . . control my temper more, say nice things more, and . . . and choose what I say depending on who i’m talking to. That’s what I need to do, right?”

“Yep!”

“But will this really - I mean - it’s not that I’m doubting you, it just that it seems pretty simple, and I’m - worried that -”

“You’re scared it might not work?” she asked gently.

He looked away, nodding stiffly.

“Kageyama-kun, I truly believe with all my heart that you are an amazing friend, and an amazing person. Anyone who has you for their friend is lucky. Anyone who doesn’t is missing out. So don’t pay attention to the horrible things people say about you. Okay? And you’ll always have me to help you out if you need it. I’ll be right by your side. I’ll make _sure_ that you succeed so well that you will never have to worry about people not liking you again, with my expert advice and invaluable assistance!”  She gave him a wide grin, trying to project a reassuring air of confidence. But her grin faltered a bit when she saw his wide-eyed ( Awestruck? Fervent? Something between the two? ) expression.

“Uh, Kage-?”

“Can I call you Yachi-neesan?” he blurted out.

There was dead silence. Then-

“Hah?!” Hitoka nearly jumped to her feet in surprise. “What? N-n-neesan?! Why?”

He looked embarrassed. “Well, because - isn’t this what older sisters do? They look out for their younger brothers? And you’ve really helped me, and - and given me hope - so - I wanted to - but if you don’t -?”

“No, I just - I was surprised! I mean - I don’t really think I’m worthy of being called that! I’m very honoured that you wish to do so! Thank you very much!”

He was smiling reluctantly, now. “Calm down a bit . . . I - I think you’re very worthy of being called that. You’ve really helped me out, Yachi-san, and I - really appreciate it. More than I can say. Um - when’s your birthday?”

“September fourteenth,” she said faintly.

“Mine’s December twenty second, so you’re older than me. So it’s not weird. Right?”

“R-right . . .”

“So it’s okay? To call you that?”

“Y-yeah, it is.”

“Okay then - Yachi-neesan.”

Her thoughts were kind of a big mess of _Neesan neesan what the heck is this even happening he’s calling me neesan!_ by that point. She might have made a faint squeaking noise; she wasn’t really sure.

She could hear the bus approaching, then, a faint rumble of wheels on tar. Kageyama looked down the road. “Is that your bus?”

“Uh?” She turned to look. “Uh, yes, it is.”

He nodded and got to his feet, and she followed suit, still feeling dazed.

The bright light of the bus drew nearer and nearer, and when Hitoka looked up at Kageyama, he was rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks red, looking - well, kind of oddly indecisive? Unless she was mistaken. Was she? Urgh, she didn’t even know anymore

 _Ahh_ . . . She tried to surreptitiously fan her cheeks. _At least he seems to be feeling as embarrassed as me, at least I’m not the only one . . ._

The bus began to slow, and Hitoka looked down to make sure she had everything in her bag. As she did so, an arm encircled her shoulder and squeezed it very briefly, and the tip of a nose quickly bumped into the top of her head.

Her eyes snapped to Kageyama in astonishment. He let go and took a step back, then bowed slightly.

“Thank you - so much. For - everything. Good night.”

And he hastily took off jogging down the pavement.

The bus stopped, and the doors opened with a hiss. Hitoka stood there blankly, slack-jawed, until the driver cleared her throat. She jumped and hurried inside, sinking into a seat gratefully. As she did so, she caught sight of her reflection in the window, and saw that she had unnaturally bright red cheeks. She leaned her face against the cool glass, closing her eyes. A slightly hysterical and very over excited giggle began to claw its way up her throat.

_Ahhh . . . he’s totally some version of the tsundere type, isn’t he!_

This thought made her want to giggle even harder, until she had to press her face to her knees to muffle it. When she had recovered, she leaned back with a sigh, still grinning happily to herself - happy that she had apparently helped Kageyama so much and so well that he had felt compelled to hug her. The gesture touched her in a way that few other things ever had before.

_Yachi-neesan . . ._

Oh, she couldn’t wait to tell her mom about this. She’d be so proud!

She’d leave out the hug, though. Moms tended to get weird ideas into their heads about things like that.

.

⸶⸷

 

_The next evening_

Hitoka hurried through the gym doors, arms full of heavy water bottles.

“Oh, Yachi-san! Thanks for filling the bottles for us!” Nishinoya grinned, plucking his bottle out of her arms.

“Thanks, Yacchan!” Tanaka echoed.

“Thank you, Yachi-neesan,” Kageyama said, taking his bottle.

Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Hinata, who had been about to take his bottle, all stopped dead and turned to look at him.

“It’s fine, Kageyama, Noya senpai, Tanaka senpai,” Hitoka said hastily, trying to divert their attention. “Hey, do you know if-”

“ _Neesan?_ ” Tanaka demanded. “Since when do you call her that?”

“SInce I decided to,” Kageyama said calmly, but with a hint of red on his cheeks. “And since she let me.” He nodded politely, then headed back to the court, calling over his shoulder, “Hinata, if you want me to toss for you, let’s go!”

Hinata glanced at Hitoka, wide eyes saying _Explain this to me later_ , then shook his head and hurried after Kageyama. Nishinoya and Tanaka switched their gazes to Hitoka for an answer. She shrugged, trying in vain to fight her own blush. “He asked if he could call me that, and I said okay. That’s all.”

“But-”

“Why-?”

“Noya, Tanaka!” Ennoshita called loudly. ‘Break’s over! Get back to practice!”

Grateful for the interruption, Hitoka went back over to Takeda-sensei to see if he had managed to arrange the bus.

Later, when she was stowing away Tsukishima’s permission slip, Kageyama tapped her shoulder.

“Oh! Yes, Kageyama-kun?”

“I just wanted to say - before, you didn’t use ‘kun’ with my name-”

“Oh, didn’t I?” she said, distressed. “Sorry-”

“- and I like it better that way.”

“Ah? Okay, if you say so . . .”

He smiled a bit. “No sister calls their brother ‘kun’, am I right?”

She grinned. “Right! Got it, Kageyama!”

“I’ll see you later, then.” He bowed slightly and was about to turn away when she said, “Kageyama-”

He looked at her inquiringly. She hesitated for a moment, then said, “You’ve been smiling more today. It’s - good. Looks good. It helps with-” She made a vague gesture.

His expression didn’t change for a moment; then it relaxed into a bigger smile than before. “I’m glad to hear you say so.”

She smiled in return.

“Yachi-san, you’re coming over, right?” Serizawa-kun called from across the gym.

“Yeah, Serizawa-kun! Just give me a minute to change, okay?”

She watched Kageyama walk out of the doors, head higher than usual, eyes more cheerful than usual, a faint smile still upon his lips, and thought to herself, _He’s going to be fine._

_I’ll make sure of it._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand scene. Three cheers for ProtectiveMomYachi!
> 
> I’ve never liked the name Tachibana, somehow. Every anime character I’ve encountered with the name hasn’t been likeable.
> 
> Please do nitpick and tell me about each and every defect - I don’t think my editing has been done very thoroughly, and I want the characters to be as canon as possible.
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed!


	2. Coiffure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yachi gives Asahi some tips on taking care of his hair. Bonding and heartwarming fluff. Takes place in her first year, during training camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm very willing to make changes that contribute to canon characterization and overall readability, so don't hesitate to mention such changes to me.
> 
> (It was only while writing this that I realized how many pins there are on Pinterest with a similar theme. I didn't take any inspiration from them though.)

 

Asahi yawned, rolling his shoulders. Training camp was - well, he felt like they were improving drastically, and getting in so much practice with such good schools was of course amazing, but . . . flying falls. He's really not a fan of flying falls. And sprints - ugh, so many sprints that day. And the frustration when his serves were received  _consistently_. Maybe he should be like Ubugawa's players, and practice a hundred jump serves a day . . . Hah, he could just imagine Suga's face if he did that. Such a mother hen, he was. Well, he couldn't do a hundred. Maybe seventy or so? He might escape most of Suga's disapproval then, hopefully.

Because he had to get better, especially with the spring tournament coming up. Kageyama tended to toss to Hinata more than anyone else, and Asahi was starting to feel like a last resort. He was sure that if he told Kageyama he would attempt to remedy that, but he wanted to get so good that Kageyama would shift to tossing to him unconsciously.

He yawned hugely again, wondering why everyone was taking so long over dinner. Sure, they'd gotten to eat later than usual, but still . . . or was it that he'd finished unreasonably early? Today had taken more of a toll on him, and he'd been eager to get to bed, so he might have rushed the meal without noticing it . . .

 _Ah, let them turn up when they want to_. He sighed and fell over onto his side, nuzzling into the cool pillow. But as he tiredly tugged at the headband, pulling it over his head to let his hair loose, he caught sight of of a figure hovering outside the door, and realized it was Yachi.

He sat back up, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed. "Yacchan?"

"Oh! Azumane-senpai!" She hesitated for a moment, then took a step forward and bowed slightly. "I'm sorry, did I disturb you?"

"Uh no, not at all. Um - you can come in, if you like."

She did so rather nervously. Asahi felt sure that she was worrying about the fact that this was the boy's common room.

"It's okay," he said kindly. "Did you need something?"

"No, it's just that I thought everyone was still at dinner, and I saw the light on, so I came to check . . ."

He realized that the band was dangling over his shoulder, tangled in the bottom of his hair, and felt a jolt of embarrassment at the disheveled appearance he must present. He hastily yanked it out and pushed his hair back over his shoulder. "Ah, yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was feeling weirdly tired today, so I finished up and headed back ahead of the others."

"Oh, I see. Were you about to go to sleep?"

"Yeah."

He noticed that she was looking slightly more unsettled than usual, her eyes darting to his shoulder at regular intervals.  _But she's not scared of me anymore. Is something bothering her?_

"Ah, I'll leave you then." She smiled and bowed again. "Good night, Azumane-senpai."

"Hey, Yacchan-"

She turned to look at him.

"Um, Asahi is okay. I mean, it's a bit weird if I call you Yacchan and you call me by my last name, right?"

She blinked, then smiled, wider than before. "Yeah, I guess it kind of is! So - Asahi-senpai from now on?"

He couldn't help smiling back. "Yep, that sounds okay."

"Okay!"

"Uh, also -" Was this a good idea? He thought he should, but maybe -?

She looked faintly puzzled, tilting her head to the side.

"Is - is there something wrong?" he said hesitantly. "Or is something bothering you?"

She looked even more puzzled now. "Um . . .. why would you think that?"

"Uh, no, it's just that a moment ago you looked kind of - upset, or nervous, or something . . ."

"Oh!" Her cheeks went red. She waved her hands quickly, dismissively. "That's really nothing. It was silly. I mean- I wouldn't -"

"If you don't want to tell me it's okay!" he said hastily. "That's okay. It just - got me a little worried."

She looked really embarrassed now. "It's really nothing for you to worry about! It was - just that -" She looked at him for a moment, then gave an uncertain laugh. "It was just when you, um, pulled the band out of your hair."

He blinked.

She waved her hands again, frantically. "I mean, I don't want to be presumptuous or anything! It's really not important, you don't have to . . ."

"You got worried when I pulled the band out of my hair?" he asked, feeling very confused.

"Well, yeah . . ."

 _Okay . . . ?_   "Um, why?"

"Um, because -" She hesitated, then came forward and knelt, picking up the band. "See?" She pointed to it. Asahi could see strands of his hair wound around it, broken ends sticking out. "When you pull it out like that, it breaks off the ends of your hair and damages it. I mean, my mom always told me to be slow and careful when I took bands out of my hair, because nothing breaks it more easily. So I guess I was just kind of startled when you, you know, yanked it out so harshly . . ."

"Oh, I see." He took the band from her, noting for the first time how many tiny broken strands there really were, and feeling kind of silly. "That's a good tip, Yacchan. Ah, I guess I was kind of stupid not to have noticed it before, huh?"

"I really wasn't trying to-" she started hastily. Asahi laughed a little. "It's okay. Really. I mean, if I asked my mom about stuff like this - heh, she wouldn't give me advice. She'd just hit me with a broom and tell me to stop worrying about my hair like a girl. And then go off again about me cutting it."

Yachi gave a giggle. He grinned slightly, happy that the nervous look had disappeared, and continued, "I don't think that's really fair. Boys have the right to worry about their hair too, right? But anyway, thanks." He looked at her, crouched in front of him, eyes brimming with friendliness, and he couldn't stop his grin from growing wider. "So if I have any questions about this kind of stuff I can come to you?"

She blushed again, beginning to disclaim, and he listened with some amusement, feeling a quiet warmth bloom in his chest. She was so sweet and so honest - one of the few people he knew for certain that didn't have a hint of cruelty in her nature.

"- not like I'm an expert on his kind of stuff, I mean, your hair is even longer than mine! I don't know what I could tell you that Shimizu-senpai couldn't tell you better-"

He laughed out loud, surprising even himself. "Yacchan, the only thing Shimizu told me about my hair, ever, was that my bun was so tight she was afraid I'd go bald. She's not really the advice giving type. And besides, don't underrate yourself. I'm sure you give great advice!"

"No, I really don't think-"

"I'll prove it to you," he said, on impulse. "Look-"

_Okay, some hair-related problem. Um, what do I - oh yeah, that could work -_

"Um - okay, so when I wake up every morning my hair is all tangled and it's really annoying to get all the knots out. And I don't like tying it up when I sleep because then the bun pokes my head. What do I do?"

He propped his elbows up on his crossed ankles and leaned his chin into his hands, trying to look like an earnestly worried student. He seemed to succeed, because she burst out laughing at his expression. The warmth in his chest flared happily.

"Asahi-senpai, stop teasing me!"

"I'm not teasing you, Yacchan! I really need help!"

She gave him a look that was simultaneously amused, exasperated and shy, and then seemed to throw off her reservations. "Ahh, fine. But! Please no laughing at my advice, okay?"

"Of course." He smiled.

"Okay. Um . . . Do you know how to do a braid?"

"A . . . ?"

Yachi hummed to herself, her eyes flicking to his hair, then tucked her own hair behind one ear endearingly nervously. "My hair is kind of short . . . can I, um?" She gestured briefly.

"Oh! Sure. Go ahead."

She moved to sit at his side and carefully reached out to pick up a piece of his hair. "Okay, so -" She broke off abruptly.

He turned his head slightly. "Yacchan?"

"Asahi-senpai," she almost wailed. "Why is your hair so messy? I can't braid it like this!"

"Uh . . ." He wasn't sure whether to laugh or feel chastened.

"Where's your hairbrush?"

"I have a comb - " He fished around, pulling it from under his pillow. "Here."

She hummed again, this time discontentedly. "This is the kind of thing that's likely to break your hair as well. You should really use a  _brush_. See, if I try to get the knots out with this-" She pushed the comb into his hair and gently dragged it down. It got stuck after struggling through barely an inch, and she pulled it out with a look that said  _See?_

"Well yeah, but I just-" He stopped, realizing how she would react if he completed the sentence.

"Sen _pai_ , do you just drag it through?!"

"Um . . ."

She sighed. "Wait right there, okay?" She got up and quickly dragged a chair over, placing it behind him.

 _She's really into this now,_ he thought amusedly.

She settled into the chair. There was a moment's silence before she said hesitantly, "Are you really, really sure you don't mind if I -?"

Truth be told, he  _was_ a little shy about it, and maybe if Tanaka or Tsukishima had been around he wouldn't have let things get this far for fear of their ribbing or snide remarks. But they weren't, and there really wasn't anything wrong about this, right? Sure it might look a little unusual, but it was just one friend helping out another. And he very much liked the enthusiastically focused Yachi he was seeing right now - he didn't want to be the one to make that go away.

So he said, as firmly as he could, "I don't, Yacchan. You can go right ahead."

"Okay."

She leaned down and picked up the comb from where it lay next to his leg. He expected to feel it in his hair once more, but instead what he felt was her fingers. She ran them down from his scalp to the ends, and whenever she hit a snag (which was quite often) she carefully pulled it apart, holding the hair as close to the knot as possible so that she wouldn't pull on the roots.

It was - an amazingly nice feeling, sitting there with her gentle hands in her hair. The care with which she was touching his hair, the quiet in the room, the occasional whiff of her light perfume that drifted past his nose - it all added up to a delicately peaceful, warm atmosphere, and he felt like he was sinking into it, wrapping it around his heart, turning the warmth in his chest into a steadily burning, pulsing spark. He was suddenly very glad that the new school year had brought such a kind first year into his life. Both she and Yamaguchi - they were an occasional, very pleasant respite from Noya and Hinata's incessant energy, Tanaka's loudness, Daichi's sternness . . .

"Asahi?"

Think of the devil.

His eyes flew to the doorway, his cheeks beginning to burn. Daichi and Suga were standing there, Daichi looking curious and amused, Suga with wicked laughter dancing in his eyes.

Yachi's hands stilled instantly. "It's fine, Yacchan," he said immediately, softly, before he could think twice. He didn't want her to feel embarrassed or upset.

He'd meant his words to be for her only, but Suga had unfortunately sharp ears.

"Oh, yes, of course. Don't stop on our account, please. Yachi's helping you out, Asahi?"

His cheeks must be a furious red by now, but he was glad to note that his voice barely wavered, though he felt like he wanted to melt into the floor. "Yeah, she is."

"That's great," Suga grinned. "Don't mind us!"

He pulled Daichi forward and they went to their own mattresses, Daichi still glancing at them out of the corner of his eye.

Asahi realized that he couldn't feel Yachi's hands in his hair anymore. He turned to look up at her. "If you're feeling weird or anything it's okay," he said quietly, not wanting the other two to hear. "You don't have to continue."

She was blushing furiously, hands clasping and unclasping in her lap, biting her lip. She met his gaze, and looked uncertain for a moment. Then she blurted out, "Would it be okay with you if I - if I did? Continue, I mean?"

He stared at her, surprised - he'd been certain that she would want to leave.

She squirmed further under his gaze, then said quickly, "I _am_ a little - embarrassed about it, but I don't like abandoning something in the middle once I've started, and I was - kind of having fun? Um, but if Sawamura-senpai and Sugawara-senpai are going to tease you about it I wouldn't want to - so I get it if you-"

His mouth twitched upwards. "I was having fun too," he replied. "It felt like - I mean, you're helping me out and doing something nice for me, which makes me - pretty happy. Um-" She'd been honest, so he should be as well. "I'm, uh, a little embarrassed too, but I'd very much like you to continue." He smiled a little tremulously. "We'll just - do our best to ignore them?"

She smiled back. "Sure!"

Her hands returned to his hair. He was still tense at first, but by not looking in Suga or Daichi's direction, he managed to forget about them enough to begin to relax.

Soon, she stopped using her fingers and switched to the comb. She ran it through his hair a few times, stopping to untangle fine knots by hand, and then laid it down.

"See how nice it is now?" she said as she came to sit at his side again, with a creditable attempt at playfulness, though he could hear that she still wasn't entirely at ease.

He reached back and ran his own hand through his hair, and  _wow._ "It's so smooth," he said, astonished. "That's amazing!"

"But if you look here-" She held a lock in front of his eyes. "Look at the ends, they're all broken. And your hair's pretty dry, also? When you just touch it you can feel that it's brittle and kind of sticks to your fingers."

"You're making me feel ashamed of myself, Yacchan," he said sheepishly.

"I'm sorry! I mean, I'm not trying to lecture you or anything, it's just that - it's such a shame, because your hair's really nice, Asahi-senpai. It's thicker than usual, and very soft, and it's a pretty colour, too. I just feel like it's a waste if you don't take care of it."

He squirmed a bit. "Sorry about that . . . But I just don't really know much about this stuff." He gave her a half smile. "That's why I need you to advise me."

She grinned self-deprecatingly at that, looking very pleased by the compliment. "Well, I'll do my best, but like I said before I don't know how much use I'll be . . ."

"And I said I think you give great advice, and I still think so. So, tell me what a braid is."

"Ah, right! Okay, so what a braid basically helps you do is keep your hair in place and untangled. It's really easy to do, once you get used to it." She carefully lifted a part of his hair and held it out, in front of his face, so that he could see what she was doing with it. "So what you do is, you divide it into three." She held it with her left hand and ran two fingers of her right through it, separating it. "Now all you have to do is keep crossing one from the edge over the middle one. So if I start with the one on the left - um, your right - I cross it over the middle one like this. Now that one is the one in the middle. So I take the one that was left out before and cross that over. And now the one that was in the middle first gets crossed over. So they all get a turn, and in the end, you get something like . . ." Asahi's eyes ached as he rolled them up, trying to watch what she was doing, but it got easier as she deftly made her way down to the end. " . . . this."

"Oh, I see, so this is called a braid, huh?" he murmured, almost to himself, thoughtfully looking at the stiff braid that was in Yachi's hands. "Shimizu used to wear her hair like this when it was was longer."

Yachi quickly pulled it apart into the soft waves it had been in before. "When you sleep with your hair braided it can't get tangled. So it gets damaged less, and you don't have to spend time untangling it in the morning either. Some people don't like it because they say they can't sleep with it, like it pokes their head, but that shouldn't be a problem if you make it loose like -" She made a questioning gesture, and he nodded. She went back to sit in the chair behind him and he felt her touch once more. Twenty seconds later, she placed the end of the braid over his shoulder. He ran a hand over it, curiously touching the smooth curves.

_Woah._

"Um, this could keep your hair in place while you're playing, too. I mean, the headband does that, but again, it lets your hair get tangled."

Asahi made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, fingers now at the end of the braid.  _This is really cool. But -_

"This is awesome, Yacchan. I don't really have much confidence that I'll be able to replicate this, though . . ."

"Try," she invited. "I can see from here and tell you if you're making a mistake."

"Okay . . ." He carefully tugged the strands apart, then pushed all of it back, holding it near the base of his neck with his right hand

 _Um, so . . . divide into three . . ._  His hands felt uncomfortably clumsy, but he managed to end up with one part in his right hand and two in his left.  _Outside over the middle?_ He hesitated, then crossed the one in his right hand over the middle one

"Is that right?"

"That's good, keep going!"

He did. It took him a lot longer than twenty seconds, and when he touched it after he was done it was nowhere near as smooth or proportioned as Yachi's had been.

"That feels terrible," he said to himself.

Yachi heard him. "No, you've done really well considering it's your first try!" she said soothingly. "It doesn't have to be perfect, anyway, it just has to serve its purpose."

"I'd like to try again, though . . ."

"Go ahead!"

He did try again, and this time it came out marginally better than the last attempt. He peered down at the end over his shoulder, feeling oddly proud of himself. Yachi came to sit on the floor once more.

"Awesome, Asahi-senpai!" she grinned.

His grin was slightly sheepish. "Thanks for teaching me, Yacchan."

She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Now all you have to do is tie the end up and you'll be done!"

He nodded and reached for his bag, rummaging in it for the bands he used to use before, to keep his bun in place.  _I know I brought one to camp . . . Ah!, there we go._ He pulled the thin band out and looped it in place, giving Yachi a grin.

"Looks okay?" he asked, flipping the braid from one shoulder to the other before pausing at her expression.

"Yacchan?"

"Senpai," she said, looking despairing, "Do you always use that kind of band?"

"Yeah, why . . .?"

"Don't! Those are almost as bad as just using a plain elastic or rubber band! Not. Good. For. Your. Hair.  _At all._ " She got to her feet. "I'll get you a different one, just wait a moment, okay?" And she hurried out of the room.

Asahi blinked after her, absentmindedly pulling the band out.  _Another thing that's bad for my hair? Really? I must have been torturing it all this time . . ._

"You guys done?" Suga called.

Oh, right. He'd forgotten that Suga and Daichi were still in the room. They came over and sat on his mattress, so that they were almost in a circle.

"Uh, yeah," he said, feeling his cheeks burn slightly. "She just went to get something . . ."

Daichi grinned. "She was really into it, huh? How did the whole thing start, anyway?"

"She thought no one was around, so she came to see why the light was on, and while we were talking I kind of yanked the headband out of my hair without thinking, which made the hair break, which made her horrified, and, uh . . . things just went from there?"

Daichi chuckled, and Suga said with his wide grin, "I was listening to a lot of what you guys were saying, you know. Before we came in."

"Hah?"

"Daichi and I wanted to head to bed fast too, we left like ten minutes after you did. When we got here he went to use the bathroom and I came ahead of him, and then I heard Yachi-san's voice, so I just stood outside for a while and listened - I didn't want to interrupt you guys." He propped his chin in one hand and glanced at Daichi. "It was really adorable, Daichi, you should have been there to hear it."

"What do you mean, adorable? " Asahi mumbled.

"I mean, both of you were like - you're both such timid people and you were dancing around each other like -"

Asahi gave him a half-hearted poke in the ribs. "Don't say that."

Suga's laugh rang out, bright and cheerful. "And Yachi-san was being such a mom, it was so cute! 'Asahi senpai, your hair's so  _messy_ , how can I braid it like this - You should use a hair  _brush_ , not a comb - You should really take care of it better-' "

Asahi groaned, burying his face in his hands as Daichi laughed.

"But you know the best part?"

Asahi peeked up through his fingers at the softening of Suga's tone. Suga met his gaze with an affectionate look. "The best part was hearing you tease her, trying to draw her out and make her feel comfortable. Usually that's something people do for you, not the other way around, so . . ." He sniffed and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Hearing the glass hearted ace reassuring someone else with confidence! Ah, the warmth in my heart -"

"Suga," Asahi groaned as Daichi roared with laughter. "Would you please stop making fun of me?"

"I'd have liked to hear that though," Daichi grinned. "You reassuring Yachi. It would be like . . like . . "

"Like puppies playing in a fluffy field," Suga sighed dreamily.

Asahi couldn't help laughing at that, if with a tinge of embarrassment, The other two grinned at him, and Daichi flicked the end of the braid with one finger. "Not bad for a first time."

Asahi blinked at him. "You know how to braid?"

"Yeah." Daichi stretched his arms out, rolling his shoulders. "My little sister always makes me learn how to do this kind of stuff so I can get her ready for school if my parents are busy. So I can do a French braid, a fishtail braid-"

"There's more than one kind?" Asahi said, feeling slightly horrified.

Daichi laughed. "Yeah, there is, but this one is the simplest type and it's all you need, so don't worry about it."

"Uwah, I didn't know you could do that, Daichi. Isn't it a waste though, since your hair is like five centimetres long?"

"Shut up, Suga," Daichi said lazily, pushing his shoulder. "Go back to teasing Asahi."

"No, please don't go back to teasing Asahi," Asahi said instantly, and Suga laughed his bright laugh once more.

"Come on, am I that mean?"

"You're like Ennoshita, acting all sweet and reserved when you actually bully us behind the scenes," Asahi retorted.

"Eh, rude, Asahi!"

Asahi heard the sound of quiet footsteps just then, and a moment later Yachi stepped through the door. "Oh, Yachi-san!" Daichi said, looking over his shoulder. "Come on in, we were waiting for you."

She came forward hesitantly, smiling a bit. Daichi grinned at her. "What, did you hear us breaking our ace's heart? You can't blame us, he makes it so easy."

Asahi huffed as Yachi grinned shyly.

"Sit down! We wanna see what advice you're gonna give him next," Suga said cheerfully. "Oh? What's all this you're carrying?"

"Um . . ." She looked sheepish. "I kind of got carried away when I was getting the hair tie . . ."

Daichi peered at the assortment of objects in her arms curiously. Yachi caught his gaze and flushed. She quickly sank to her knees and let everything fall to the floor.

"Okay, so -" She held up two slim hair ties, one blue and the other white. "These are for you to use instead of those horrible elastic bands, Asahi-senpai."

She dropped them into his palm, and he picked one up, curiously testing the elasticity.  _Wow, this is definitely better than what I had before._

He opened his mouth to thank her, but she hurried into nervous speech. "Um, so these other things you don't have to use if you don't want to - I mean, you wouldn't want to be bothered with this everyday -"

"Don't worry about it, Yachi-san, we'll make sure he does so you never have to scold him for having damaged hair again!" Suga said. Yachi gave him a surprised look, which became a relieved smile when he grinned at her. "So what's this?" He touched a small bottle with golden liquid inside it.

"Um, that's almond oil. It'll help keep your hair from getting too dry and brittle, and it doesn't have a strong smell either, like a lot of other hair oils."

Suga flipped open the top and sniffed. "Woah, you're right," he said, sounding surprised. "It's got a really nice, light smell."

"Lemme see," Daichi said, trying to grab the bottle. Suga held it away, pouting slightly. "Rude, Daichi. Say please."

Daichi's eyes narrowed. "Suga, we ran more than fifteen sprints today. I am not in the mood for your playfulness, and if you make me wrestle with you right now, you will regret it."

Asahi's winced slightly, and he was almost sure he saw Yachi's ponytail stand up in shock. But of course Daichi's captain tone didn't even faze Suga.

"Oh,  _so_ scary. Come on, Daichi, let's see what you've got!" Suga sprang to his feet.

Daichi followed suit with a growl, and soon yelling and yelping filled the air. Asahi sighed. "Sorry about that, Yacchan."

As she watched them, though, her panicked surprise faded into happiness. "No, no," she said quickly. "It's kind of nice seeing Daichi-san so - unreserved? And Suga-san so playful. Like, they can't be like that during club, so . . ."

Well, Asahi understood the sentiment, but . . . "It gets kind of tiring once you've seen it about ten thousand times, though," he murmured, and Yachi giggled. Despite what she'd said, he thought she looked a little more comfortable now that it was just him.

"So tell me about the other bottle," he said, trying to ignore the odd cheerfulness that last thought had sparked in him.

"This is conditioner. I guessed you wouldn't have conditioner with you . . ?" Her voice trailed off inquiringly, and he nodded. She nodded in return and continued, "This is a pretty mild one. Again, it helps make your hair soft and supple if it's brittle. You shouldn't use it too often, though, because it's a chemical thing . . .. The almond oil is fine to use every day, but still not too much of that either? Because then your hair would get kind of greasy unless you washed it right away."

"And the brush?"

"Oh, the brush is for you. I haven't used it much, it's almost brand new, and I don't have lice or dandruff or anything, so you don't have to worry about using it."

He smiled at that, but couldn't help giving her a quizzical glance. "Are you really sure you can spare all this?"

"Oh, of course! This is all stuff my mom insisted on me bringing along, and I don't really use it very often anyway. Besides -" She grinned suddenly. "You need it a lot more than I do."

"Heh." He rubbed the back of his neck "I can't argue with that . . ."

There was a sudden yelp from Suga. "Asahi, save me!" He barrelled into Asahi, hastily turning him around so that he was between him and Daichi, who was panting.

Asahi sighed. " _Ne_ , Suga, just give it to him, why don't you? Don't waste your energy or Daichi's on such a silly thing . . . you're embarrassing yourself in front of Yacchan, too. Senpais are supposed to set good examples."

Daichi and Suga both blinked. Then Suga laughed. "You're becoming more mature all the time, Asahi! I'm proud!" He grinned and ruffled Asahi's hair, making him yelp. He only grinned wider as he tossed the tiny bottle in his hand to Daichi.

" _Tha_ _nk_ you," Daichi said, giving him a venomous look.

"You do realize I'm older than you, Suga?" Asahi mumbled.

"Heh. Are you?"

" _Yes_ , I -" He sighed and gave it up.

"Ah, Asahi-senpai, the braid!" Yachi exclaimed suddenly.

Asahi touched his hair and was dismayed to find the braid unraveled. "Suga," he groaned.

Suga looked slightly contrite. "Ah, sorry about that . . "

"Sorry Yacchan, could you do it for me just one more time?" Asahi asked hesitantly.

"Oh! Oh, sure." She picked up the white hair tie and slipped it around her wrist, going to sit behind him. Asahi determinedly avoided the others' amused and teasing gazes as Yachi got to work. She finished as quickly as before, and as she came back in front of him and began to gather up everything she had brought he gave her a grateful look that made her flush with pleasure.

"A braid actually doesn't look bad on you, Asahi," Daichi said good-naturedly, handing the almond oil back to Yachi. "It'll definitely be an improvement on you waking every day looking like a  _yokai_."

"Right?" Suga agreed, grinning again. Asahi eyed him warily. Suga was in an unusually playful mood tonight, and he seemed kind of unpredictable, like he could say or do anything -

"Hey, Yachi-san - wait, why is Asahi the only one of us who calls you Yacchan?"

She blinked. "Um, of course you can call me that too if you want, Suga-senpai - you too, Daichi-senpai .. . ."

"Okay, Yacchan! Now what was I going to- oh yeah! Can you give me a different hairstyle too, like you gave Asahi?"

Colour rose in her cheeks, and she looked nervously uncertain. "I guess so? But I can't really guarantee how good it'll be -"

"Eh, that's okay. I'm sure it'll turn out great! You can just play around if you want, it's totally fine!"

"O-okay . . ."

"Daichi," Asahi whispered as Yachi took the comb and got to work. "Did someone slip him some whiskey or something?"

Daichi gave him a weary look. "It's that obvious, huh? I thought it had worn off a bit until he made me chase him around. Blame Kuroo."

Asahi smiled slightly. His smile was much wider in a few minutes, when Yachi's hesitation had worn off with Suga's encouragement, and she actually began to have fun. When the rest of the Karasuno boys turned up, Hinata and Nishinoya instantly clamoured for their own makeovers, and Asahi laughed with Daichi at Yachi's expression when she saw Nishinoya's hair deflated and devoid of hair gel. She couldn't do much for Hinata, barring some clips in his hair, but for Nishinoya she swept it up into a tiny ponytail and tweaked his tuft of blonde hair so it fell rakishly over his left eye. Everyone agreed that this was as good as, if not better than, Suga's new hairstyle, which had his soft grey hair brushed down and to the right, making him look oddly distinguished, like he should be wearing a suit. The atmosphere grew loud and colourful with teasing and cheerful shouting as the team debated over the rival merits of short and long hair, what kind of streaks look the coolest, or whether anyone would be able to recognise Tanaka or Narita if they ever grew out their hair. Only Tsukishima didn't take part, but even he listened with a softer expression than usual despite his air of long-suffering. Yachi's giggles, Hinata's cheerful chuckles, Tanaka's roars of laughter, even Ennoshita's quiet chortles rang out time and time again. They only broke up over an hour later, when Shimizu came looking for Yachi.

Yachi stood up and bowed slightly. "Good night, everyone! Sleep well." She hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, "I- I had fun! And I feel much closer to - to all of you now, so - I'm really glad!"

Nishinoya whooped happily, and Suga called out, "Come back tomorrow, Yacchan! We had fun too!"

This was heartily seconded by at least five other people. Yachi blushed happily. Suga grinned wickedly and continued, "And next time bring Shimizu with you, okay?"

This was even more loudly supported. Shimizu shook her head slightly, though with a small smile on her face, and made her way to the door, Yachi trotting behind her. At the door, she paused and looked back, meeting Asahi's gaze.

He smiled softly, for once feeling not a trace of self-consciousness.  _Good night_ , he mouthed, hoping his expression would convey how glad he felt that she had built a better rapport with the team.

She smiled brightly and bowed her head before hurrying out.

Asahi leaned back with a quiet sigh, absentmindedly fiddling with the end of his braid. Daichi gave him a sidelong look, then murmured, "It's nice to see her gaining more confidence, huh?"

"Mm," he hummed in agreement. There was companionable silence for a few moments before he said, "Feeling like a proud dad makes me feel kind of old, though."

Daichi gave a snort of laughter. "Running this team makes me feel old everyday."

Asahi smiled, but before he could reply, he heard a loud voice say, "Of course I can do a handspring! Just watch, Kinoshita!"

Daichi groaned. "Help me catch Suga before he does himself an injury, will you?" He didn't wait for Asahi's reply before he got up and picked his way between the mattresses, muttering,"Damn cat captain is gonna get a piece of my mind tomorrow."

Asahi got to his feet and followed, still smiling.  _Joining the volleyball club at Karasuno_ , he thought as he reached for Suga's shoulders.  _Definitely one of the best decisions I've ever made._

_And I'm definitely never, ever leaving it again._

⸶⸷


	3. It's Almost Like We Never Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi and Oikawa come to Sendai to watch Seijoh’s matches. Bromance, Oikawa acting immature, Hinata talking in CAPITAL LETTERS, and a chance encounter with a certain manager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s everyone’s favourite piece of gorgeous trash, Oikawa Tooru! Give him a hand, people! I find Iwa a bit more interesting though, so this is from his perspective.  
> And oh, look, Hinata turned up! Yay!  
> Enjoy!

Hajime yawned widely, wishing for the tenth time that he hadn’t had to wake up so early in the morning to catch the train to Sendai from Kyoto. Sure, coming by to cheer on their kohai was nice (and he was really lucky his parents didn’t mind shelling out 46,000 yen for the train fare every three months so that their son could visit), and it was awesome seeing what a good captain Kunimi made, but still, more than five hours to Sendai and more than five hours back . . . at least he had a long weekend coming up, so he would have time to catch up on his assignments. _After_ he caught up on his six hours of missed sleep.

His companion, of course, didn’t seem to be troubled by these kinds of thoughts at all.

“ . . . and did you see that spike? When they broke the deuce? Kindaichi was _freaking_ awesome, like he almost beat you, Iwa-chan. Ahh, it made me feel so good, watching them thrash Shiratorizawa. Even that annoying guy,  Tsutomu whatever - he was a first year when we were third years, remember? Kindaichi was definitely the better ace, like seriously, he’s grown so much. And Kunimi was doing a great job as captain, he was calm and collected - oh, and there’s that second year, Kaidou-kun, almost as good at setting as I am. And that first year libero, like _wow_ , he can already do such a good back row attack, that’s some insane talent right there-”

“Shittykawa, you already told the team all this and more, so can you stop talking for like five minutes? You’re giving me a headache.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan. Aren’t you excited to see how well Seijoh is doing?”

“Yeah, they’re doing pretty awesome, but I can still see where they need work. They didn’t _thrash_ Shiratorizawa, two of the sets went to deuce. They’re gonna be tired as hell tomorrow when they face Karasuno.”

Oikawa’s mouth twisted slightly, but Hajime couldn’t find it in himself to be sorry. It had been two years already, more than enough time for him to get over it. And seeing as his Tokyo college team was so insanely good that he was having to actually work to keep up, instead of work to bring them to his level, he figured he didn’t have to cut him that slack this time.

“The freak duo are gonna be new and improved, even better than last year. They have the guy with the glasses, Tsukki-whatever, one of the best blockers in the prefecture. And that really good first-year libero, and -”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point,” Oikawa grumbled, morosely shoving his hands in his Aoba Johsai jacket.

“Point is they’d better be on top of their game tomorrow, or it’s going to be Karasuno going to nationals, not us - I mean, not Seijoh.”

“You,” Oikawa said, poking his shoulder, “are just trying to get me down because you’re sleepy and you want your nap and you had to deal with your mom’s flying tackle hug this morning. And I’m not gonna let you. Our team is great, our team is strong, and they are going to get through the qualifiers and go to Nationals because if they don’t they know I will kill them in their sleep.”

“Some senpai,” Hajime said, stifling another yawn.

“Hey, who bought the entire team yakisoba with his own precious pocket money?”

“That was literally once. And who sent poor Kindaichi out to the bakery every other day for the whole year?” Hajime countered.

A roar from one of the courts drowned out half of Oikawa’s indignant reply, and Hajime let himself zone out for the rest.

 _Sounded like a cheer for a nice receive_ , he thought. _It’s too bad we need to use this corridor to leave - it would be great if we could have seen that. Wait,_ can _we use this corridor? Isn’t this like part of the team’s changing quarters or something?_ He cast a cursory glance around the bright corridor and the row of doors they were passing. _Well, no one seems to be around right now, so I guess we’re okay . . . It’s the last two matches going on, after all. Everyone else has left, no point in wasting time that you can use to recharge for tomorrow . . ._ He smiled slightly, remembering how often the Aoba Johsai coach had said those words.

“Iwa- _chan_ , you’re not listening to me at all, are you?” Oikawa said with an offended pout.

Hajima gave him an unimpressed look. “It’s not like you’re saying anything interesting.”

“You know what your problem is? College is getting to you, that’s what. Why you even picked an intensive course like electrical engineering-”

A small crash interrupted him. Hajime looked around with a slight frown, and Oikawa cut himself off, his eyes darting around the corridor curiously. Then there was a heavy thump, and a distinctly feminine yelp.

Hajime took a few steps forward to what he assumed to be the source of the sound  - the only door that was ajar - and pushed it open, wrinkling his nose at the thick atmosphere of a changing room. There was a girl sitting on the floor, wincing as she prodded her foot. Her back was to him, and she had a head of blonde hair that fell halfway down her back. A black jacket lay beside her on the floor, and one of the tall cupboards stood open wide open, displaying its bare shelves.

“Uh, you okay?”

She turned around instantly, startled eyes flying to his face. Then she relaxed and laughed sheepishly. “Me? I’m totally fine, just lost my balance.” She nodded to the rickety table as she started to get to her feet, and Hajime noticed a small cardboard box lying on its side, plastic _bento_ boxes of all colours and sizes spilling out of it. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

Oikawa, who had been peeping over his shoulder, piped up, “Scare us? Of course not. The only thing that would possibly scare us is seeing such a beautiful young lady on the floor, possibly injured.” He swept in breezily and offered her a courteous hand.

 _From whiny kid to smooth talking bastard in two seconds,_ Hajime thought with exasperated amusement.

The girl gave Hajime a nervous look - he couldn’t blame her, Oikawa’s style of speech was definitely weird to people who weren’t drooling over him - then accepted the hand up hesitantly. Oikawa gracefully pulled her to her feet, then knelt to gather up the fallen boxes.

“Ah, you don’t need to do that!” she exclaimed, kneeling as well.”I’ve got it-”

“It’s my pleasure, manager-chan!”

She paused, looking surprised. “Is it that obvious I’m a . . .?”

Her voice trailed away as she met Oikawa’s gaze. Hajime tilted his head, wondering at the flash of recognition in her eyes, and wondering why she looked so damn familiar.

“Oi-Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa looked pleasantly surprised, and laughed. “You recognise me, huh? It’s good to know I’m still popular!”

“O-of course I recognise you!” she stammered. “I remember watching you serve and thinking wow, that would definitely tear my arms off if I tried to receive it!”

Oikawa threw a glance at Hajime that was sparkling with mischief, and he groaned silently. He’d be listening to “Ah, the girls still love me, Iwa-chan! You know they would notice you too, if you just stopped scowling all the time-” for the next half an hour.

But the girl turned to him and exclaimed, “So you must be Iwaizumi-san!”

He blinked at her as she got to her feet and bowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you before, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen either of you!”

He shrugged, smiling a little despite himself. It actually was nice to be recognised, and the obvious sincerity and enthusiasm shining in her (quite pretty) brown eyes definitely didn’t hurt.

“That’s fine, uh-?”

“Oh, Yachi! Yachi Hitoka!”

“It’s fine, Yachi-san. It’s been a couple of years since we left, after all. Is your leg hurt?”

“No, not at all. I just landed on it a bit weirdly, but it’s fine.”

Oikawa, slightly ruffled at being left out, tapped her on the shoulder and gave her the box with a wide smile. “Here, Yacchan.”

“Oh, I should have helped you!” she exclaimed, distressed, blushing slightly. “Thank you so much, Oikawa-san! You didn’t have to, really.”

He leaned against the wall, eyes twinkling. “Like I said, it’s my pleasure to help such a sweet, beautiful young lady.”

Her blush became deeper, and her eyes flashed to Hajime, so obviously unsure and off-balance that Hajime said, “Don’t talk like you’re her grandfather, Oikawa, it’s weird.”

“Iwa-chan! Don’t say things like that!”

Yachi giggled softly, and Hajime couldn’t help smiling a little.

Oikawa swept his hair back with a flourish - a gesture that, supposedly, had actually made a girl swoon when Oikawa was in second year - and said teasingly, “So which team do you manage, Yacchan? Surely a bunch of brutes, leaving their pretty manager to do dangerous work like this without even offering to help. You must have a hard time with them.”

She waved her free hand quickly. “No, no, they’re amazing! I mean, they’re really sweet and we have a lot of fun together, and they’re a really good team, too. And, uh, getting something down from the cupboard isn’t really dangerous, it’s just that I’m pretty clumsy, so-”

“ _Are_ you?” Oikawa raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “I certainly can’t believe that. I would definitely describe you as amazingly graceful.”

Hajime had to hold back a snort. No offence to Yachi-san, but it wasn’t like Oikawa had seen her walk a ramp; he’d hardly even seen her walk at all. Calling her graceful was such a blatant attempt at flattery that he wasn’t surprised she began to lose herself in a mass of fumbling half-sentences.

“Which team do you manage, Yachi-san?” he cut in, biting his lip to stop from smiling as she tried to disclaim and thank Oikawa at the same time.

_She looks so familiar, where have I-_

“Oh! Oh, I guess you wouldn’t remember, huh?” She smiled shyly. “I was a first year, and I only got to watch one match we had against Aoba Johsai. Um, but my team is-”

She was interrupted by a rather faint voice calling, “Toka-chan!” from the corridor.

Yachi started. “He came to look for me? I must have taken a really long time,” she exclaimed, almost to herself, then called, “I’m here, I’m coming!”

“Who’s ‘he’?” Oikawa asked.

She smiled, a full, proud, genuine smile. “Team captain,” she replied simply.

“You didn't say which team-?”

“Toka-chan?” Someone poked their head in the room. Hajime seized him up automatically. Pretty tall, rather long hair that was tied high at the back and fell messily over his forehead in the front, a generous dash of freckles across his face, a kind air, and a volleyball uniform that had the number one.

A black and orange volleyball uniform.

Hajime snapped his fingers softly as the realization struck him. _Ohh, right, right, she was the new manager back when we were in third year, wasn't she_?

“Ah, so that’s why you look so familiar,” Hajime said, looking back at Yachi. “You’re Karasuno’s manager, huh? I never noticed, but you must have been sitting on the side of all the Karasuno matches till now.”

She grinned. “That’s me! Hey, Tadashi-kun, sorry I took so long.”

“That’s okay,” he said, coming further into the room, glancing curiously at Hajime and Oikawa. “Um, you’re-?”

“Hey, you’re the pinch server, right?” Oikawa said, his eyes careful and calculating. “Karasuno’s first year pinch server?”

“Yamaguchi Tadashi, no longer first year,” he said with a pleasant smile and a short bow. “And no longer just the pinch server. Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san, yes? It's nice to actually meet you.”

Hajime nodded. “That’s us. Nice to meet you too. So you’re captain now, right? Your manager was telling us. Congrats.”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair.”Thanks. It feels like a lot more trouble than it’s worth a lot of the time, but I’ve got a great vice-captain and a great manager, and they really help pull the team together.”

“Who’s vice?” Oikawa asked.

“Kageyama,” Yachi chirped.

Hajime’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously? Well, good for him.”

Yamaguchi nodded. “He’s super dependable.”

“Really?” There was an unsettling glint in Oikawa’s eyes. “Hey, Iwa-chan, you wanna go congratulate our dear kohai before we go?”

“No,” Hajime said firmly. “I want to get a bite to eat and catch the earliest train back so I’m not up late catching up on my assignments. And stop with that crafty face, it’s creepy.”

“Iwa- _chan_!”

Yamaguchi valiantly managed not to smile at that, and instead asked curiously, “Actually, how come you both are in Sendai?”

“We came up to watch Seijoh’s matches. Did it last year too,” Hajime replied.

“Ah, we must have missed you last time, then. We didn’t play Seijoh at all.”

Yachi tilted her head, like a sparrow, her brow furrowing. “Why, what happened last - wait, was it last year that Dateko-?”

Yamaguchi smiled at her affectionately. “Such a terrible manager. Yeah, Dateko went to the Inter-High nationals last year.”

Yachi rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Hajime glanced at Oikawa, noting with exasperation the way his eyebrow was twitching irritably.

“Well, they won’t this year,” Oikawa said smoothly. “This year, Seijoh is the team that’s going to win.”

Hajime suppressed the urge to groan.  Did he really have to try to rile up the captain of a team they’d played two years ago?

But though Yamaguchi blinked for a moment, he only smiled. “I’m sure they’ll do their best,” he said politely, holding Oikawa’s gaze, and -

\- and for a moment, It was Daichi Sawamura standing there - strong and bright eyed and full of confidence. Then Hajime blinked, and the moment passed.

He opened his mouth to intervene, but Oikawa beat him to it.

“That’s a lot of confidence you’ve got there, captain-kun,” he said softly, his smile growing disquieting. “Let me give you a piece of advice - it’s never a good idea to underestimate Seijoh.”

Yamaguchi shrugged slightly, his smile cheerful and sincere. “Of course. But it’s not a good idea to underestimate Karasuno, either, Oikawa-san.” He bowed to them both. “I apologise, but we’re running late. I hope we give you a good match to watch tomorrow. Please excuse us.”

“I won’t be there, but Oikawa will,” Hajime replied quickly, nodding in return, stopping Oikawa from making a cutting reply. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san.”

Yachi snatched her jacket off the floor, and bowed. “Thank you for your concern and for helping me, Oikawa-san, iwaizumi-san! It was great to meet you.”

“It was wonderful to meet you as well, Yacchan,” Oikawa said, with a charming wink, recovering his poise quickly as he turned to face her. “Be sure to console your captain when Karasuno loses tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Uhh - I -”

Hajime grimaced, but Yamaguchi only bowed courteously and pulled Yachi out of the room.

Hajime turned to Oikawa with a frown. “Dude, did you seriously just let yourself get riled up by someone two years younger than you? When you’re not even playing against him or his team?”

Oikawa pushed past him to the door. “That kid was too cocky by half,” he growled. “And you don’t have any school spirit, Iwa-chan. They’re playing against Seijoh, which means they’re against us. I can’t believe you actually said good luck!”

Hajime rolled his eyes as he followed. “You hold grudges for too long, idiot.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the echoes of a conversation steadily growing fainter.

“ . . . wasn’t scary?”  He looked down the corridor to see Yachi hugging the box to her chest, looking up at Yamaguchi, who was walking by her side.

Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his neck, smiling a little sheepishly as he looked down at her. “Ehh, a little, yeah - but, you know, I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t have that much confidence in the team.”

Hajime leaned against the wall, waiting for them to walk a bit further. He and Oikawa had to take the same path, and it would be rude and weird to listen in. But Oikawa poked his shoulder, and when he looked around, gave him a mischievous look, beckoning with one finger. Hajime gave him a glare.

“We are _not_ eavesdropping on them.”

“Don’t you want to hear what Yacchan says about us?”

“No!”

“Come on, that snarky kid deserves it.”

“He wasn’t snarky, he was polite, _you_ were the snarky one. Don’t be an idiot.”

Oikawa glanced at Yachi and Yamaguchi, who were just taking the turn that led to the stairs. He looked back at Hajime speculatively, then shrugged and took off on his own.

“Wait - shit! Oikawa, get back here!” Hajime groaned and followed him.

“How old are you?” he whispered harshly when he caught up at the top of the stairs. “Twenty or twelve?”

“Shh! Just listen!” Oikawa’s eyes were dancing as he peeped out from behind the wall. “They’ve just got to the part about us!”

“- fell off the table, and I guess it must have made a loud sound, because they both turned up to help. They were really nice about it. I mean -”

Yachi broke off. Hajime couldn’t help looking as well, and saw that she had paused on the stairs. Yamaguchi gave her a sidelong glance and a nudge.

Yachi traced an aimless pattern on the stair with one shoe, looking down at the box she was holding.“I mean - Oikawa-san was kind of - if I wasn’t wrong - um - flirting with me?”

Oikawa grinned at Hajime widely, and Hajime brought his fist down on his head hard. Oikawa managed to muffle his yelp creditably, and shoved his elbow in his stomach in retaliation. It might have developed into a full-fledged scuffle if they hadn’t been interrupted by laughter.

Oikawa frowned, peeking around the wall again, and Hajime followed suit, curiosity getting the best of him. It was Yamaguchi laughing, and Yachi was looking at him with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.

“No, did he really?” Yamaguchi said, grinning down at Yachi. “That’s awesome, Toka-chan.”

“No, it was so weird! I mean, people don’t flirt with me! At all! And it was _Oikawa-san_ \- Tadashi, stop laughing!”

“So cute,” Yamaguchi said teasingly, still chuckling.

Oikawa looked at Hajime with an eyebrow raised, and Hajime shrugged, scowling at him.

On the stairs, Yachi bumped Yamaguchi with her shoulder, looking down at her shoes. Hajime was entirely certain that she was blushing furiously. Yamaguchi watched her for a moment, then bent down and sneaked a kiss onto her cheek.

“Wha - _Tadashi!_ ” Yachi looked around frantically for members of other teams, and Hajime hastily ducked behind the wall. “There are still _people_ around -”

“But next time, tell him you have a boyfriend, would you?”

Hajime peeped out again to see Yamaguchi holding the box in his hands as he smiled down at her - he must have plucked it from her hands.

Yachi looked flustered.“Tadash - what - I would have but - no, that would have been so weird! You can’t just bring that up in casual conversation! And I’m the manager, I can carry -” She made an ineffectual swipe at the box, and Yamaguchi twisted out of the way, beginning to trot down the stairs.

“Can’t hear you, Toka-chan! If you want it come and get it!” he called back.

Yachi began to hurry down as well, giggling in spite of herself. “You're so bouncy even after today's matches - are you that confident about tomorrow?”

Yamaguchi jumped down the last four steps and flashed a ‘V’ over his shoulder, grinning cheerfully. “Yep! Plus I told Hinata I’d treat him to unlimited pork buns if we won in two straight sets, so it’s pretty much guaranteed.”

Yachi laughed as she reached him, flicking him lightly on the forehead. “Silly.”

His grin only grew wider as he pushed the doors open with one hand, passing out of Hajime’s field of view. “That’s why you love me! Come on, everyone’s in the bus already.”

“Tadashi, do you _have_ to say stuff like that so that the whole building can hear - “ Yachi’s exasperated voice was cut off abruptly as the gym doors swung shut.

And there was silence.

Eventually, Oikawa said, “I want to kick his ass more than ever now. ‘Pork buns so it’s pretty much guaranteed’? Ugh, so annoy-”

Hajime kicked him in the back, causing him to stumble forward and down the stairs.

“What was that for?” he yelped, turning wounded eyes on Hajime as he rubbed his back.

“That kid is a nice guy, as proved by the fact that he didn’t rise to your childish, immature and utterly undignified taunts,” Hajime growled. “And the fact that you eavesdropped on him, and pulled me into doing it too, means that you have no right to make snide remarks. Is that understood?”

“He -”

“ _Is that understood?_ ”

Oikawa scowled, then turned and made his way down the stairs. Hajime followed, keeping a wary eye on him. They had reached the doors when Oikawa muttered, “You’re scary when you use big words.”

“Yeah, that’s why I use them. I have to keep you in line somehow.”

Oikawa huffed and looked away as he pushed the doors open. They made their way out into the early evening and down the steps in silence - sullen silence on Oikawa’s part. Hajime glanced at him a few moments later and saw him open his mouth to speak.

“If you say _anything_ like ‘I can’t believe that cute manager is his girlfriend’ I’m gonna kick you so hard-”

“How do you do that?! You’re a mind reader, aren’t you, Iwa-chan? Aren’t you?”

Hajime gave him a look as they walked down the row of parked buses. “It’s not hard to read someone with such a simple mind, Shittykawa.”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out at him.

One of the buses began to pull out, and they stopped, waiting for it to pass. As the row of windows flashed by, there was suddenly a loud cry of “WAIT, THAT’S THE GREAT KING!” and a face framed by fluffy orange hair popped out of the window.

“HEY, GREAT KING!” Hinata yelled, waving frantically. “HEY, SEIJOH’S SCARY ACE!”

A clamour erupted inside the bus, which slowed down considerably, and Kageyama poked his head out as well.

“Hinata, you dumbass, don’t stick your head out of a moving -” he shouted, and then caught sight of Oikawa and Iwaizumi. His mouth dropped open.

Hajime hesitated, then raised a hand in greeting. Oikawa, on the other hand, smirked and struck a pose, calling out cheerfully, “I hope you lose tomorrow, Tobio-chan!”

Hajime frowned at him, and Kageyama yelled, “Like we’d ever!”

“Yeah, like we’d ever!” Hinata chimed, trying to pull an intimidating face.

As the bus began to roll through the gate, there came the loudest roar of all.

“BOTH OF YOU GET BACK INSIDE, SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!”

Both heads disappeared instantly. The bus turned onto the road and Hajime could see a man with spiky blond hair - their coach? Yeah, that was him - yelling down at Hinata and Kageyama, both of whom were cowering in their seats.

And the bus picked up speed and vanished down the hill.

Hajime bit his lip hard, but when he caught sight of Oikawa’s half-bemused, half-amused expression, he couldn’t help bursting into quiet laughter.

Oikawa laughed as well as they began walking again. “Those two should be a comedy duo.”

“Seriously,” Hajime agreed.

They walked in companionable silence for a while. Oikawa pulled out his phone, and Hajime dug his hands in his pockets and tilted his head back, watching the clouds begin to glow orange and pink as they drifted across the sky.

“Sendai isn’t home,” he said musingly, almost to himself. “But it comes pretty close, doesn’t it?”

Oikawa hummed at his side. “Because of the gym,” he said. “Memories.”

“Mmm.”

“Plus both our parents came up to meet us in the morning . . . home is definitely when our dads argue about whose onions are growing better-”

“-and our moms go on about the book club association-”

“-and which one of us is taller and you cry tears of horror because it’s always me-”

Hajime shot him a look, but couldn’t help smiling. “-and they bug us about getting girlfriends-”

Oikawa grinned. “-but tell us to focus on studying the next minute-”

Hajime mimicked his mother’s high pitched voice. “ ‘And don’t let volleyball get in the way, dear!’ “

Oikawa burst out laughing. “Your voice is too deep for that, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime chuckled. “And they had to do all that in the middle of breakfast. . .”

“I’m surprised we weren’t kicked out of the restaurant.”

Hajime hummed in agreement, and the silence fell again, gentle and unobtrusive. It was nearly ten minutes later that Oikawa showed Hajime the screen of his phone.

“There’s good ramen place about a kilometre off, and apparently they serve really good agedashi tofu. We’ve got time before the train.”

“Sure.”

“And I’m paying.”

“What? No, it’s fine -”

“It’s my treat, honestly. You have to pay more than me for the train and everything, let me get this for you.”

“Oikawa, you don’t have to-”

“Iwa-chan.”

Hajime knew that tone. The _you’re-being-ridiculous-and-I’m-being-eminently-reasonable-and-a-good-friend-to-boot-just-take-it-will-you_ tone. The first time he’d heard it, Oikawa had been insisting on carrying him home piggyback when he’d fallen from the jungle gym in the park and hurt his knee. They’d been ten. Hajime had been sobbing, and had _really scared_ Oikawa, he’d been told later with a scowl. But that tone had been as unshakeable then as it was now.

He didn’t like it, because he knew Oikawa got less pocket money than he did, but no way was he going to bring that up . . .

He huffed a sigh. _I’ll make it up to him later._

“Fine. I’m warning you, I’m gonna be ordering a _lot_ of tofu.”

“Fine by me!”

Oikawa slipped the phone into his pocket, bumping Hajime’s shoulder lightly with his own, the way they used to before every exam, before every match - hell, even before they used to ask their crushes out in high school.

And Hajime smiled.

It wasn’t home . . .

. . . but it was good enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Kaidou is a reference to Kaidou Shun from Saiki Kusuo no Psi-nan. Also credit to Iwa's Wiki for his favourite food.)  
> Kind Reader, I'm not even kidding - a kudos gets you a new chapter. Kindly drop one if you liked!  
> Comments get two chapters until I run out of prewritten chapters to post :)


	4. Suga, Yes Please!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazuhito’s a calm kind of guy, but even he finds himself startled by what Noya and Tanaka are eager to do to make Suga-san’s birthday special. Hinata and Kageyama getting roped in as well doesn’t give him much confidence. He only hopes Suga-san appreciates it as much as they enjoyed planning it, but somehow he doubts it . . .
> 
> In which Yamaguchi is unexpectantly talented, Tsukishima is a wily schemer (though he doesn’t really need to be, considering who he’s deceiving), and Coach Ukai gets cake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know. I don’t even know what this is or how I get these ridiculous ideas. Is this a crack fic? I don’t know if it qualifies, because I can easily imagine the Karasuno dorks doing something like this.
> 
> If anyone knows of another story that used the same idea, please tell me, I’d love to read it!
> 
> AND NARITA KAZUHITO AND KINOSHITA HISASHI ARE SEVERELY UNDERREPRESENTED IN THIS FANDOM THIS IS ME TRYING TO BALANCE IT A BIT
> 
> This takes place before the first training camp at Tokyo, which happens in mid July, and also before Shimizu recruits Yachi (while Tsukki is still teaching Kageyama and Hinata), or while she is in the process of doing so, which is why she doesn’t appear here. You can see the timeline I used for reference if you Google ‘Asanomi Kuroki Haikyuu timeline’.
> 
> Hope this makes you smile! :)
> 
> (Maroon 5 fans, drop a review if you liked it!)

Kazuhito sat down on the pavement outside the Sakanoshita store with a soft sigh, crossing his legs at the ankles. Noya had decided to teach him Rolling Thunder that day, and his shoulders and chest ached abominably.

Ennoshita nudged his left side. “Hey, Narita, you want anything?”

“Huh?” He looked up to see Kinoshita and Kageyama looking at him expectantly. “Oh . . . a lemon iced tea, please.”

“Nothing to eat?” Kinoshita asked. “We’re getting some Pocky and chips and stuff.”

“A box of Pocky, then. Strawberry.”

Suga-san gave him an inquiring look as Kinoshita and Kageyama disappeared into the shop. “What’s got you so out of it?”

Kazuhito made a wry face. “Master Noya’s rigorous training.” Noya looked over with a wide grin and a thumbs up, and Kazuhito smiled as he continued, “Plus I need to keep studying hard for the tests coming up, I want to be able to go to Tokyo with you guys. I really suck at physics, though . . .”

“You’ve got Ennoshita to coach you, though, right? Keep your head up, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“What am I, the official tutor in this group?” Ennoshita grumbled.

Suga-san laughed. “Well, at least you’re not in your third year, Narita. Daichi and Asahi and I need to keep our grades consistently high, or we might get pulled from the team.”

“Ehh?” Hinata looked up from the arm of the bench he was perched on. “They could pull you from the team? That would be horrible!”

“That’s why we’re doing our best to score well,” Daichi replied. 

“So when I get to third year I’ll have to worry about that too?” Hinata’s eyes grew round with horror at the very thought.

Tsukishima was lounging on the bench with his headphones over his ears and his eyes closed, but he must not have had any music playing, for he said lazily, “Don’t worry about it, your grades are so bad you’ll probably be kicked out long before you reach third year.”

Kazuhito couldn’t help the slight snort that escaped him at that, and even Suga-san smiled at Hinata’s indignant expression.

“Is that any way to talk to your student, huh, Tsukishima?”

“I’d be very glad  _ not _ to call you my student, so I don't think I need to worry about how I talk to you.”

“You-”

“Oy, oy,” Tanaka said from Kazuhito’s right side. “Don’t get into a fight outside the store, or Coach will get mad.”

“Thanks, Tanaka,” Daichi said, rather wearily. “Can I trust you to keep an eye on these guys? We need to head home and hit the books.”

Tanaka saluted smartly. “Of course, captain! You’re talking to the perfect senpai, after all!”

“Oy, Ryuu, what about me?” Noya exclaimed.

“Both of us!” Tanaka declared, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

Daichi smiled. “Right. Then we’ll see you guys on Monday. Head home early and get a good night’s sleep, okay?”

“Yep!”

“You got it, captain!”

“See you!”

The chorus of farewells followed the three third years as they made their way down the road, waving over their shoulders.

Kazuhito waved back, then stretched his legs out lazily, tilting his head up to look at the orange-pink sky. “Tokyo, huh,” he murmured. “You think it’ll be fun, Enno-san?”

“Definitely. It’ll make us push ourselves, you know? Plus if the other teams are anything like Nekoma it should give us a lot of good practice for the Spring High Prelims.” 

“Of course training camp’ll be fun,” Tanaka said, stretching his legs out like Kazuhito. “We’re gonna beat their asses, aren’t we?”

Ennoshita rolled his eyes, and Kazuhito grinned. “Sure, we’re gonna beat the asses of four top ranked Tokyo schools.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic. We can do it if we try!”

“Well, it’s up to you regulars to do it,” Kazuhito said, stifling a yawn. “Us benchwarmers just need to sit back and cheer you on.”

The conversation between Nishinoya and Hinata had been relatively quiet till then, but it suddenly exploded in volume and enthusiasm as they began to discuss the greatest volleyball receives of all time; so much so that Tsukishima grimaced and came to sit on the sidewalk close by Kazuhito, with Yamaguchi following him. What with that, and Ennoshita getting up to chide them, it was a few minutes before Kazuhito looked back at Tanaka. When he did, he was slightly surprised to see him looking uncharacteristically serious.

“Does that bother you, Narita?” he asked in his straightforward way.

“Does what - oh, the benchwarming thing?”

“Yeah.”

Kazuhito watched a cloud drift across the setting sun, taking a minute to answer. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But you and Noya and Asahi-san and everyone - even Hinata and Tsukishima - you’ve all earned the right to be on the court. I haven’t. It’s as simple as that.”

“You’re okay with settling for that?”

“Heh.” He turned to grin at Tanaka. “No way. I’m just waiting for the third years to graduate so I can get my shot. No way I’m going to be sitting on that bench forever.”

Tanaka grinned back, fierce and sharp-edged. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Ennoshita plopped to the ground between them, huffing a sigh. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Benchwarming.”

“Ahh. You better watch out, Tanaka, I’m planning on spending as much time as you on the court next year.”

“As much as the ace, huh? You’ll be lucky!”

“Oh, you’re gonna be the ace? Aren’t you forgetting about Hinata?”

“He’s the decoy, not the ace! He doesn’t have enough power to be an ace.”

“You sure about that? He doesn’t seem to think so-”

“Oy, stop trying to turn me against my kohai!”

Kazuhito let them go at it - he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Instead, he rummaged through his bag and pulled out his phone, plugging in his earphones, and selected the first playlist that met his eye - the anime playlist.

It was on shuffle, so the first song that played was Ref:rain, the ending song of a recently released twelve-episode anime, Love After The Rain. The anime itself had been pretty decent, with an interesting premise, but in his opinion this song had been the best part. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes as Aimer’s throaty voice began to sing, “ _ Raining, natsu no gogo ni . . . toriame kasa no shita . . . _ ”

Kinoshita came out and sat beside him as she reached the second chorus, handing him his tea and box of Pocky. Kazuhito nodded his thanks and handed him the money, which Kinoshita accepted with his usual foxy grin. Kazuhito smiled back, and began to unscrew the cap of the bottle. As he did, his eyes happened to fall on the screen of Tsukishima’s phone.

“Oh!” He pulled one bud out of his ear. “Is that-”

Tsukishima glanced at him, then pulled his headphones off one ear and looked down at him with one eyebrow faintly raised, far enough that it was clearly ruffled, but not so high that it was impolite.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Kazuhito smiled in apology. “It’s just that I recognized that song. Isn’t it-”

He caught the tinny sound of the song from the headphones, and paused his own music so he could hear more clearly.

“It’s Sugar, right?”

Tsukishima raised his other eyebrow, looking surprised. Yamaguchi leaned forward so he could see Kazuhito, looking curious.

“It is,” Tsukishima replied. “You listen to Maroon 5?”

Kazuhito smiled slightly. “I listen to a lot of stuff, but yeah, I’ve heard some of their more famous songs.”

“Like what?” Yamaguchi piped up, seemingly oblivious to the annoyed look Tsukishima sent his way at prolonging the conversation. Kazuhito noticed a lot of those moments - it was odd how the seemingly meek Yamaguchi could apologise to his friend or ignore his more irritated gestures with such an air of innocence and absolutely no contrition.

“Like . . . um, Payphone, of course, and Moves Like Jagger, but I prefer their lesser known ones a bit more. Like Unkiss Me, I Won’t Go Home Without You . . .”

“Sad?”

“Oh yeah, Sad! Sad was brilliant.”

“Right? I really liked it. It’s Tsukki’s favourite Maroon 5 song.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima growled, the tips of his ears red.

And there it was - Yamaguchi’s absolutely unrepentant grin and his “Sorry, Tsukki!”

Kazuhito smiled to himself as he said, “What about Sunday Morning?”

“Ah, that’s so catchy! The beat just gets in your head and takes you away, doesn’t it?”

“Ah yeah, it definitely does.”

“Do you listen to a lot of English music, Narita-san?” Tsukishima asked, looking faintly curious.

“I wouldn’t say a lot . . . I know a few really big artists, but I don’t have a really wide base of knowledge. Actually, I listen to anime music most of all, since it’s often tailored to suit a particular theme. Like . . .  Attack On Titan is all about courage and fury and sacrifice, right? So that really comes out in the music. I prefer music like that, where there’s a clear emotion, or a clear message. If it’s just a beat and some generic topic - like Sugar, actually - then I'm not too keen. It’s a fine song, but there’s no real meaning behind it, you know?”

He caught himself then, and laughed sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble on about it.”

Tsukishima’s eyes looked thoughtful - at least, they didn’t look as disdainful as usual. “No, I get what you mean. It’s like the junk food of the music world, right?”

Kazuhito chuckled. “I never thought of it like that, but that’s a pretty good description.”

“Sometimes you kind of just crave junk food, though,” Yamaguchi said. 

“Yeah, that’s true too-”

“Hey, hey, you guys talking about Suga-san?” Noya seemed to come out of nowhere, throwing one arm around Kazuhito and the other around Tsukishima, who frowned uncomfortably.

“Suga-san?” Kazuhito asked.

“Yeah, I heard you say his name!”

_ I didn’t - oh. _ “That was ‘Sugar’, not Suga.”

Noya frowned. “You just said the same thing.”

“Su _ gar _ , like what you put in cakes and cookies, not Su _ ga _ .”

“Oh. Why were you talking about sugar? That’s weird. You going to make a cake?”

“It’s the name of a song, Noya.”

Noya laughed loudly, causing Tsukishima to wince and lean away. “A song called Sugar? What kind of lame song is that? I wanna hear it!”

“If it’s a lame song why do you want to hear it? And besides it’s in English, and last I heard your English grades were-”

“Don’t talk about my grades!” Noya flapped a hand at Kazuhito. “Anyway, music is about feeling!” He thumped his chest. “About what you feel over here! And I’m curious now, I wanna hear it even if it’s lame!”

“Well, I don’t have it, Tsukishima does.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widened a fraction, and he cast a brief glance of irritation at Kazuhito as Noya immediately started badgering him for his headphones. Noya caught Tanaka’s attention, and the two of them caught Hinata’s (‘It’s about Suga-san?” “There’s a song about Suga-san?!” “No, it’s about-” “I wanna hear the song about Suga-san!”), and then Kageyama came over as well, and soon Tsukishima had four pairs of jumbled hands reaching for his headphones.

“ _ Don’t _ touch my headphones!” he snapped, in a tone he never used with his senpais. Tanaka drew back, a scowl beginning to form on his face. Tsukishima glanced at him, huffed softly, then said, “I’ll play it out loud, so you don’t need the headphones.”

“I’ll bet they’re pretty expensive,” Kazuhito said casually, tone soothing, and Tanaka’s frown abated. Tsukishima nodded shortly in response as he hit the rewind icon.

Hinata, Noya, Tanaka and Kageyama all settled down to listen. Even Ennoshita and Kinoshita leaned in curiously as Adam Levine’s smooth voice poured out of the small speakers.

‘ _ I’m hurtin’, baby, I’m broken down . . . _ ’

Kazuhito had expected Noya to be fidgeting by the end of the first verse, and Tanaka to loudly declare the song wasn’t anything great before the end of the pre chorus. But, to his surprise, they both remained listening intently.

_ They must be waiting for the ‘sugar’ part to come up. _

‘ _. . . give me one little taste . . .. Sugar! _ ’

They all blinked at the rise in pitch. Hinata actually jumped in surprise.

‘ _ Yes, please! Won’t you come and put it down on me? _ ’

“Woah, that’s cool,” Noya exclaimed. “He sings so high!”

“Right?” Hinata said. “I don’t think I could hit that pitch at all.”

“Please don’t try,” Tsukishima said, rolling his eyes.

Hinata scowled and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Tanaka saying loudly, “Huh, he doesn’t sound like a real man! You can hardly tell if it’s a guy or a girl singing!”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, navigating to Chrome and typing swiftly as the song continued to play. He tapped ‘Images’, scrolled down, and silently presented Tanaka with an image of a shirtless Adam Levine, tattoos on full display.

“Uwahhh!” Hinata peered at the screen. “Look at those tattoos! That’s so cool! Look, Noya-san, it’s a tiger!”

“And there’s an eagle on his chest,” Kageyama pointed out, dark eyes scanning the picture curiously.

“This is him?!” Tanaka exclaimed, peering even closer than Hinata. “Seriously?”

“He  _ is _ really cool!” Noya declared. “Even if he sings like a girl!”

Yamaguchi had to hide his smile behind his hand, and Kazuhito bit his own lip at Tsukishima’s long-suffering expression as he massaged his forehead.

“Will you guys pipe down?” Kinoshita said mildly. “I’m trying to listen to the song.”

They subsided a bit, and it was relatively peaceful until the song ended.

“That’s it,” Tsukishima said, plugging his headphones back in. “Now kindly stop leaning on my shoulder.”

Hinata bounced back, making a face, and began to slurp his juice noisily. Kageyama sat back as well, munching on a Pocky. As he handed the box to Tanaka, he said thoughtfully, “It really does sound like ‘Suga’ more than anything else.”

Ennoshita nodded in agreement. “If I hadn’t known it was actually ‘sugar’, I would have definitely thought it was ‘Suga’.”

Kinoshita snickered. “We could surprise him with that song on his birthday. Would he be freaked out, do you think?”

Ennoshita and Kazuhito laughed as well. “Very definitely,” Kazuhito said. “Can you imagine the face he would make?”

“Is Sugawara-san’s birthday coming up?” Kageyama asked.

“It’s next week. June thirteenth, right?”

Ennoshita nodded. “Yeah. He never celebrates it, though, because it’s two weeks before exams.”

“Oh, that’s too bad!” Hinata exclaimed. “Can’t we do something for him?”

“Well . . . we can’t take him out to the arcade or anything, his parents are kind of strict, but I guess if we used the gym? We could take an hour out of practice, maybe, if Daichi-san doesn’t mind.”

“Yeah! We can get a cake and everything!”

“And presents!” Noya exclaimed. “We’ll make it the best birthday ever!”

They began to exchange excited ideas - who would ask Coach about it, who would ask Daichi about it, who would buy the cake, how much everyone would contribute towards the cake, who would carry out a ‘secret stealth mission’ to discover Suga-san’ favourite flavour of cake, whether they should put up decorations -

“No,” Ennoshita said firmly. “No decorations. They’d be a waste of time and money, and make the gym really messy. We’re just going to spend an hour eating cake and having fun, okay?”

Okay, no decorations.  Then what games could they play, how could they make sure Suga-san was surprised . . . the details piled up. Kazuhito was surprised at the amount of thought they were putting into it, though he supposed he shouldn’t be - it was for Suga-san, after all.

Tsukishima had put his headphones back on long ago, only nodding when asked to bring a hundred yen for the cake. Yamaguchi, on the other hand, had been pulled into the conversation, and was shyly offering suggestions, looking elated when they were accepted; like the idea of buying a large card, writing different messages, then having Suga-san guess who wrote which message.

The sun had almost set entirely by the time they hammered out the final details. Kazuhito got to his feet, stretching, and offered Kinoshita and Ennoshita a hand up. They had just grasped his hands, and he had just begun to pull, when Hinata chirped, “And we need to practise the song, right?”

His hands slipped in surprise, and both Ennoshita and Kinoshita fell back hard onto the sidewalk with startled yelps.

Yamaguchi blinked. “Um, Hinata, we’re not actually singing the song,” he said in his soft voice.

“What? Why not? It’s perfect, it’s a song with Suga-san’s name in it! Right, Noya-senpai?”

“Shouyo’s right!” Noya gave Hinata a slap on the back that made him stumble. “Of course we’re singing the song!”

“But - it’s-” Yamaguchi glanced at the other second-years for help, and Kinoshita stepped in.

“It has Suga-san’s name in it, yeah, but the lyrics aren’t exactly suitable for a birthday party, Hinata,” he said, mouth quirking as he tried to control his smile.

Noya, Hinata, Kageyama and Tanaka all tilted their heads in unison, identical expressions of confusion settling on their faces, and Kinoshita couldn’t help laughing. He gestured at Ennoshita helplessly, and Ennoshita sighed.

“Did none of you understand the lyrics?”

“It’s something about giving the guy sugar because he’s sad,” Tanaka said confidently. “What’s so bad about that?”

Yamaguchi’s shoulders were shaking, and even Tsukishima had to cover his mouth with one hand. Ennoshita stared at Tanaka, looking exasperated, and Kazuhito decided to step in once it was clear he was at a loss for words.

“It’s addressed to a girl,” he said, faintly registering the contrast between his own placid voice and Tanaka’s strident one. “Sure, it’s kind of what you said, but it’s not really appropriate to sing to Suga-san. The ‘sugar’ in this case is . . . uh . . .”

“It’s the girl,” Noya said, still looking confused. “‘Cuz she’s sweet. Suga-san’s the sweet one here, so it’s fine, right?”

“Not exactly-” Kazuhito began, but he was interrupted by Tsukishima.

“Definitely. I think Suga-san would be really happy to hear it,” he said, eyes glinting behind his glasses.

“Right?” Hinata said excitedly. “You’re singing with us, right, Tsukishima?”

“Me? No way, I can’t sing at all,” Tsukishima said pleasantly. “But I think if it’s you, Noya-senpai, Tanaka-senpai, and Kageyama, it should be enough.”

“Ehh, so few? What about you, Yamaguchi?”

Yamaguchi waved a hand, still trying to choke down his giggles. “No, I don’t sing too well either. I think you guys will do fine on your own.”

Kazuhito looked at Ennoshita and Kinoshita for help - surely they couldn’t let the four of them inflict this on Suga-san? - but Kinoshita’s eyes were dancing wickedly, and Ennoshita just shrugged wearily, clearly not about to intervene.

Tsukishima glanced at them briefly, the gleam in his eyes turning satisfied as he said, “I could even help you learn the song if you like, Tanaka-san, Nishinoya-san.” 

“Really? Hey, you’re not such a bad guy, Tsukishima!” Tanaka said, slapping him on the back.

Hinata, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. “Why’re you suddenly so helpful?”

Tsukishima met his eyes with a cool look. “Can’t I want to help my senpais?”

Hinata’s frown didn’t abate, but Coach Ukai came out just then to shoo them off because ‘You guys squatting in front of the store like lame yakuza is scaring people off!’ So they walked down the road together, parting at the crossroads since the second years had a study session planned at Tanaka’s house. Tanaka ruffled Hinata’s hair with a grin, Noya clapped Tsukishima on the shoulder, and Yamaguchi and Kageyama bowed politely as Ennoshita and Kinoshita wished them good night. Kazuhito waved over his shoulder at Hinata’s cheerful ‘See you tomorrow!” and shrugged his bag into a more comfortable position on his aching shoulders as the five of them began the walk downhill.

“I didn’t think Kageyama would be okay with singing,” Kinoshita said abruptly, swirling the can in his hand around before draining the last of the cold coffee.

Kazuhito dug his hands in his pocket as he yawned. “Wants to do something nice for Suga-san,” he mumbled, rubbing a stray tear out of his eye. “Looks up to him a bit, so . . . okay with embarrassing himself.”

Ennoshita nodded in agreement. “Or maybe he’s got a good singing voice, you never know.”

Kazuhito pointed at him with a Pocky. “Or that.”

Tanaka leaned down and took a massive bite out of the Pocky, grinning when Kazuhito frowned at him. He gulped it down and remarked incongruously, “Setter-wise, if you mixed Suga-san and Kageyama, you’d get Oikawa, right?”

There was a moment of silence as they all absorbed this startlingly apt observation.

“You  _ would _ ,” Noya said in a tone of wonder. “A scary good setter who cheers up his team and brings out the best in them - skill from Kageyama, and the rest of it from Suga-san. That’s smart, Ryuu!”

Tanaka grinned proudly, stealing another Pocky from Kazuhito’s box. “I am kinda brilliant, aren’t I?”

Ennoshita shot him a stern glance. “Then, Mister Brilliant, you get a mock test in modern Japanese today. Let’s see how you do.”

Tanaka’s groan was drowned out by Kinoshita’s laughter, and Kazuhito smiled to himself. A party with these guys planning it seemed like it would turn out to be pretty fun, if a bit weird. He just hoped that Suga-san would find it more fun than anything else.

⸶⸷

Kazuhito fiddled with the wrapping of his present idly, wishing Daichi-san would hurry up. The gym was spooky when it was pitch dark, with no sound but that of everyone’s muffled breathing.

Coach Ukai had raised a sardonic eyebrow but given them permission, and Daichi had sighed and said, “Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt. But only an hour, and only if you all manage twenty receives in a row during practice, okay?”

And Kazuhito had exchanged a grin with Kinoshita at Daichi-san’s quietly pleased smile as he put in his hundred yen, knowing that even if none of them managed even ten receives in a row the party would still happen.

So at seven, Daichi had managed to get Suga-san to step outside for a few minutes, Ennoshita hurried out to bring the cake in, Tsukishima set up the wireless speakers for his phone, Yamaguchi went to his post by the switches, Kazuhito, Kinoshita, Asahi-san and Shimizu-san stood on either side of the doors like a very meagre guard of honor, and the newly formed Karasuno Boy’s Volleyball Team Choir took up their positions as Coach leaned back in his chair and waited with a smirk to see how this was going to turn out.

_ Too bad Takeda-sensei couldn’t be here, _ Kazuhito thought, smoothing the ribbon on his present down.  _ But at least Shimizu convinced Noya and Tanaka they don’t have to sing the entire song, so we don’t have to listen to them caterwauling for too long- _

“They’re coming!” Asahi-san murmured, and yes, Kazuhito could hear faint voices getting closer.

“Don’t forget what we practised, everyone!” Tanaka said in what was, for him, a hushed voice.

“Shh!” Ennoshita hissed, hurrying to stand beside Kazuhito.

Footsteps sounded outside. Kazuhito could hear Daichi-san’s low, smooth voice, and then Suga-san saying, “-can’t be a power cut, look, the other gym has its lights on. And why is everyone so quiet-”

The door creaked open, and Yamaguchi hastily hit the light switches. Suga-san blinked in the sudden brightness as everyone shouted, “Happy birthday, Suga-san!”

“What -” He took in the wrapped presents everyone was holding, and the cake box on the table, eyes wide. When he looked back at the team he was beaming, eyes sparkling.

“You guys-!”

“Wait! We have a song for you, Suga-san!” Noya held up an imperious finger, then pointed it at Tsukishima. “Tsukishima, if you will!”

Smirking slightly, Tsukishima tapped his phone, and the backing track for the chorus of Sugar began to play.

“One, two, three -  _ Sugar! Yes, please! Won’t you come and put it down on me? _ ”

Kazuhito met Kinoshita’s gaze, and they both choked, clapping their hands to their mouths. Suga-san blinked again, shocked, and glanced back at Daichi, who-

“ _ I’m right here! Cuz I need! A little love and little sympathy! _ ”

\- whose shoulders were shaking furiously as he tried to control his laughter. Their pronunciation was atrocious, and they all seemed to be singing at different pitches. Tanaka’s low roar was in direct contrast to Hinata’s high warble, though both were singing as enthusiastically as Noya, who was nearly vibrating on the spot, arms outstretched, eyes closed soulfully. Kageyama was the only one making an effort to match the others, his surprisingly decent singing voice helping somewhat, but he was unsure and faltered over the lyrics.

“ _ Yeah you show me good lovin’- _ ”

They began to break down entirely here, words and tune clashing as erratically as paper boats in a swift stream. Suga-san was looking extremely awkward, and distinctly uncomfortable at being barraged with this cacophony, and now even Shimizu was grinning quietly as Coach Ukai clapped his hands over his ears, shaking with laughter. Kazuhito’s stomach was beginning to ache from how hard he was laughing.

But a new voice joined in here, smoother and more confident as those singing began to falter at their discordance. Yamaguchi took a few steps forward, gesturing encouragingly as he sang along-

“ _ Make it all right, need a little sweetness in my life- _ ”

They recovered, surging loudly towards a triumphant conclusion.

“ _ Sugar! Yes, please! Won’t you come and put it down on me! _ ”

And Tsukishima cut the music.

There was a brief moment of absolute silence. Then Kinoshita whooped, clapping through his tears, and the gym burst into laughter and bright noise. Asahi-san punched Noya’s shoulder gently, still laughing. Suga-san strode forward, grinning widely, pulling Tanaka into a hug on one side and ruffling Kageyama’s hair with his other hand. Ennoshita, Daichi-san, Kinoshita and Kazuhito continued to clap loudly, and Coach Ukai lowered his hands to join in, as did Shimizu.

“Did you like it, Suga-san?” Hinata cried eagerly, and Suga-san gave him a hug as well.

“Of course, the song was amazing! You actually found a song with my name in it, that's so cool -”

Kinoshita’s snort set Kazuhito laughing again, and he had to lean on Daichi-san for support.

Suga-san was biting his lip valiantly, and managed to swallow his own laughter enough to say, “I’m so glad you made this effort for me; thank you so much! Kageyama and Hinata, you guys did so well! And Yamaguchi-”

He turned and Yamaguchi backed away, blushing as though he wanted to sink into the earth.

“I didn’t know you could sing like that, that was awesome! Hey, don’t be shy now, come here!”

He tugged Yamaguchi into the center, whereupon there was a renewed round of applause.

“Thanks for the support, Yamaguchi!” Tanaka yelled in one ear. “Don't sing too well, my foot!” Noya yelled in the other. Yamaguchi blushed harder, waving his hands deprecatingly, but they just punched him affectionately before turning to Kageyama and Hinata.

Kageyama smiled as they clapped him on the shoulder, a little uncomfortable at the attention, but his eyes were bright and happy. As for Hinata, he was soon bouncing with so much joyous energy that Asahi-san caught him by the waist and held him for a few minutes to calm him down.

Kazuhito slipped his phone out of his pocket and stealthily snapped a few pictures. He had a feeling this was an evening he would definitely want to remember.

And it was. Suga-san exclaimed happily over the card, easily matching each inscription to the writer, and then they settled down for cake. Suga-san insisted that the first piece go to Coach Ukai, who went a little red, coughing in an embarrassed way, but couldn’t seem to stop himself from smiling. They played ‘Never Have I Ever’ with the penalty being a smear of cake cream across the face instead of a sip of alcohol, a very loud game of Duck Duck Goose, and an ‘Ultimate Tournament’ of Rock-Paper-Scissors, in the final round of which Ennoshita ended up facing Tsukishima and winning.

_ They’re all as giddy as little kids, _ Kazuhito thought, laughing with the rest as Noya chased Kinoshita around, trying to get him back for smashing a slice of cake in his face.

When it was time for the presents, Suga-san opened them at once, saying that he wanted to thank everyone then and there for their gifts. He grinned at Noya’s ‘Ain’t no setter better than me!” shirt, looked awed at Tsukishima’s golden Parker pen, groaned at Kinoshita’s ‘World’s Best Mom’ mug as everyone laughed, and had just exclaimed over Tanaka, Hinata and Kageyama’s immensely long (and extremely colourful) scarf when they were told that it was time to close the gym up.

Hinata sprang to his feet, declaring he could clear away more wrapping paper than Kageyama, so of course Kageyama leapt to his feet as well, and the gym was scoured and gleaming in five minutes.

Suga-san bowed, eyes glowing with happiness. “Thank you so much for this, all of you. It really means a lot.”

“You’re welcome, Suga-san!” Noya yelled.

“As long as you had fun,” Kazuhito smiled.

“Happy eighteenth birthday, Suga,” Asahi grinned.

“Suga-san, was it the best birthday ever?” Hinata asked excitedly.

Suga-san grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “Definitely! Obviously a birthday with you guys is the best possible birthday!”

“Suga-san!” Tanaka howled, crushing him in a massive hug. Kinoshita pried him off, saying with a grin, “Thank you for everything you do for the team, Suga-san!”

Daichi-san nodded in agreement. “I don’t think we’d get anywhere without you.”

“I second that,” Coach Ukai called from where he was licking cream off his fingers.

Suga-san looked like he was so full of joy he might burst, and bowed deeply once again.

Shimizu tapped his shoulder. “None of that, now,” she said, smiling slightly. “Let’s end on a high note.”

The high note turned out to be Suga-san being carried out triumphantly on Tanaka and Asahi-san’s shoulders as Noya, Kinoshita and Tanaka cheered. Kazuhito snapped one last picture, helped Yamaguchi gather up Suga-san’s still wrappedpresents, and followed the others as they spilled out into the cool night air, tired and content. He paused on the steps, the faint scent of cake cream drifting through the air, tickling his nose, listening to the clink of the keys as Daichi-san locked up behind him, watching the moonlight flash off Suga-san’s hair and Noya’s teeth, watching as his club - his team - jostled each other and joked and filled the night with life and cheer.

“Waiting for something, Narita?” Daichi-san  asked with a slight inflection of puzzlement, pausing by his side.

Kazuhito smiled back. “Nothing at all, captain.”

And walked down the steps to join his team.

 

_ Omake _

“Sugaaa!  _ Yes please! Won't you come and _ -”

Suga barrelled into Daichi, cutting him off, face glowing red. “Will you stop-”

“ _ Put it down on me _ !” Asahi shouted, gasping as he laughed. “ _ I'm right here _ -”

Daichi got his breath back and jumped right back in. “ _ Cuz I need _ -”

“ _ Little love and little sympathy _ !” they yelled together, then collapsed on each other's shoulders, giggling helplessly.

“Stop, for the love of god!” Suga groaned, smiling in in spite of his embarrassment. “It was a nice thought, okay?”

“They were - basically asking you to-” Asahi gasped.

“ _ Come and put it down on me _ !” Daichi howled, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I'll do something  _ much _ more traumatizing than  _ putting it down on you _ if you two don't  _ stop singing that damn song- _ ”

He gave up a week later, when the song inexplicably ended up as his ringtone, Facebook status, and scrawled across the back of half his school books, and resigned himself to just being thankful the rest of the school hadn’t caught wind of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love After The Rain is pretty good, check it out :)


	5. For You, Senpai - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hitoka discusses possible gifts to give the third years as a going away present, her friends offer their help, and the volleyball club meets some new people.
> 
> Oh, and Tanaka’s abs make an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter where OCs make an appearance. I hope you like them, Kind Reader!
> 
> (okay not actually the first because new first years did appear in chapter one, but here they’re actually fleshed out, so)
> 
> My thanks to the immensely awesome LadyWisteria for betaing!

 

 

**** “ . . . I  _ will be going  _ to the park today. I  _ had gone  _ to the park today. Did you understand the difference, Nozaki?”

“Yes, sensei.”

“Right, then give me an example of present continuous tense.”

“Present - present continuous?”

Matsuhiro-sensei raised a sharp eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over the room. “Class, you will definitely get a question like this on your final exam, so please make sure you know it better than Nozaki appears to.”

Hitoka stifled a yawn as a low ripple of laughter spread through the class, and underlined ‘present continuous’ in her notebook. 

“I . . . um . . .”

The bell rang, saving Nozaki-kun, and Matsuhiro-sensei sniffed. 

“I expect to see five examples of present continuous sentences in your book tomorrow, Nozaki. The rest of you, finish those two comprehension exercises. I want them on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sensei,” the class droned as she walked out, shoes clicking smartly on the floor.

Hitoka flipped her notebook shut and stretched her arms out with a sigh. She had a few moments of peace before Shiori came over to her desk, looking disgruntled.

“Man, Matsuhiro’s classes are the worst. She asked me like ten questions in the first fifteen minutes! Why does she pick on me all the time?”

“Because your English really sucks, Shiori-chan,” Natsuki said lazily from the desk behind Hitoka’s. “If you took pretty notes like Toka-chan, she wouldn’t.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I can’t take good notes, okay?” Shiori said indignantly, adjusting her half-rimmed spectacles.

“What’s really weird is that your handwriting is so bad but your drawing is so good. If you put half as much effort-”

Shiori stuck her tongue out at her. “Like I’m gonna put in any effort for  _ English _ . I just need to pass, right? English doesn’t even matter, no one cares about English grades -”

Natsuki shrugged. “With an attitude like that, is it a surprise Matsuhiro-sensei doesn’t see you as a sparkling student?”

Hitoka slipped her books into her bag, smiling as Shiori made an indignant retort. The two of them couldn’t seem to go an hour without bickering mildly about something, but it was almost entirely unconscious, like a deeply ingrained habit. If they ever  _ did  _ stop fighting, she reflected, swinging her bag onto her shoulder, it would definitely be weird, to say the least.

Natsuki rolled her eyes at Shiori and rose to her feet, graceful as always. “Are you heading to club today, Toka-chan?”

“Mmm?” Hitoka yawned as she got up. “Oh, no. The volleyball club doesn’t have practice today.”

“You’re looking kind of tired,” Shiori said curiously, peering into Hitoka’s face. “Have you not been sleeping well?”

Hitoka smiled a little sheepishly. “Not for a couple of days, no . . .”

“Is something worrying you?”

“It’s just that - well, the third years from the volleyball club will be graduating soon, and I wanted to think of something to give them. A token of appreciation, you know?” Hitoka pulled the classroom door open and stepped into the corridor. “I’ve been trying to come up with some ideas, and I talked to a couple of the volleyball guys as well, but so far there haven’t been many good ones.”

“What have you got so far?” Natsuki asked, falling into step beside her, looking mildly interested.

“Let’s get some drinks from the vending machine and sit down and talk the whole thing out,” Shiori chirped, skipping along on Hitoka’s other side. “We’ll sort it out, don’t worry!”

Hitoka smiled gratefully at them. “Well, so far we’ve thought of a memory jar, a scrapbook, and-” She sighed softly. “And sneaking out school volleyballs so that everyone can sign them and giving them one each.”

Shiori snorted, and Natsuki smiled slightly. “I’m guessing that wasn’t your idea?”

“It was Noya-senpai’s,” Hitoka admitted, beginning to walk down the stairs. “I mean, not that signed volleyballs are a bad idea, but I don’t think the third years would appreciate us stealing them from the school. And besides, the point of it is to kind of - it should be something that brings back memories, you know? Something to be treasured. Well, I guess signed volleyballs would do that? But I don’t know, it doesn’t seem . . .”

Shiori hummed as she leapt down the last four steps and pushed the door open. “It’s not really evocative enough, right?”

Hitoka nodded in agreement, stepping out into the afternoon sunlight. “That’s exactly it, Shiori-chan.”

Natsuki twirled the end of her long, black braid around two fingers, as she always did when she was thinking. “What else did you say, Toka-chan? A scrapbook, and?”

“A memory jar.”

“I think a memory jar’s a cute idea,” Shiori said. “Though you’d have to pay for the jars, so I guess it’s the idea that costs the most.”

“Well, money isn’t really a problem, because we have ten people who can contribute and only four people to make the gift for. Um, but getting everyone to agree on what to put in the jar . . .” Hitoka winced, already envisioning Hinata suggesting putting in a deflated volleyball for the third years to use later, and Tanaka-senpai pushing for photos of the cutest girls at school.

“Ah, you doubt yourself too much, Toka-chan. I’m sure you’ll be able to whip them into shape.”

Hitoka made a face. “Am I really the whipping type?”

Shiori laughed, tucking her short hair behind one ear. “I mean, if it’s for something you really care about, you usually find the courage.”

Natsuki smiled as well as she pulled out her wallet, reaching up to push the button for strawberry milk. “That’s true. Actually, the mention of a scrapbook intrigued me. What exactly did you have in mind?”

Hitoka stepped up to the machine, selecting an apple juice, drumming her fingers against the glass absentmindedly. “Well, that’s also kind of a problem. I have a whole lot of different ideas, but trying to decide which ones would be best is kind of giving me a headache. Plus it would be nice if everyone could be involved in making the gift, you know?” She stepped aside to let Shiori use the machine, poking the straw into the carton. “And a scrapbook is a kind of artsy thing, which I don’t think many of the guys will be good at.”

Natsuki sighed as she settled on the grass and crossed her legs, looking mildly exasperated. “Toka-chan, you can’t please everybody. The point is to make something nice for the third years, right? That’s your goal. Whether everyone is involved is secondary.”

“Well, but . . . I’m the person who’s joined the club the latest, right? Everyone else had known the third years for months already when I became manager. So if there’s anyone who shouldn’t be involved as much-”

Shiori knocked on Hitoka’s head lightly with her can of green tea as she sat down. “You can say that when those boys lose two days of sleep over the farewell gift, Toka-chan.”

“For once, Shiori’s right,” Natsuki said dryly. “If you’re putting your all into it and you really care for and respect your senpais, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known them. With respect to the gift, those who can contribute the most to something that will make the third years happy will be involved the most. That’s all there is to it.”

“Exactly! Those knuckleheads can stick pictures or something, and count themselves lucky.”

“But-”

“No buts, Toka-chan! Let’s get to thinking about the gift!”

“But-”

“So,” Natsuki said, a tad too loudly, “I was intrigued when you mentioned a scrapbook, because you’re really good at design and layout, right? So I think a scrapbook would be right up your alley. Memory jars - I think they might not give you enough space to convey everything you want to, whereas if it’s a scrapbook you can just add more pages if it becomes necessary.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Hitoka said thoughtfully. “But what exactly should the scrapbook include?”

“Memories!” Shiori exclaimed happily. “Memories of fun and working together and laughing together. The goal is to remind them of all that!”

“Well, I thought having everyone write a message or something down . . .?” Hitoka tugged at a strand of hair nervously.

Natsuki hummed thoughtfully. “Pretty standard.”

“Well, and photos, of course.”

“Do you have photos of everyone?”

“Um . . . Well, I was thinking I could freeze frames from matches and use those? And of course they sometimes take selfies when they go out together . . “

“Will that really be enough?”

“I don’t know!” Hitoka buried her hands in her hair fretfully. “No, it’s not nearly enough, is it? I’m never going to be able to make something good enough! We’ll end up with something mediocre and the third years will be forced to smile and accept it but they’ll actually be disappointed and I’ll let everyone down because they depended on me and-”

“Toka-chan!” Shiori laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying not to smile. “That definitely won’t happen, okay? We’re here to help you figure it out. And I’m sure Natcchan wasn’t trying to be critical.”

Natsuki looked slightly guilty at her distress. “Ah, no, I really wasn’t . . . The reason I asked about photos is because I remembered that poster you made when the volleyball club needed funds. It was really eye catching. I mean, when you just looked at it you could see the determination and concentration that boy was putting into the jump. I just thought - if you had some photos like that of the third years, when they look at it later, it’ll be rather like remembering their youth, yes?” 

“Oh, I see. Well, no, I don’t have photos like that, because I asked Hinata and Kageyama to stay back one day so we could get that shot. And asking only the third years to stay back would be a bit weird, right? They’d know something was up. I mean, they’re just coming into club every other practice now, to help out the rest of the team, because the volleyball season is over and they need to focus on studying for the finals.”

Shiori snapped her fingers. “I know! Toka-chan, you can say that you’re thinking of a few ideas for more posters, and then you can take all the photos you need during club! You’d get photos of the third years having fun with everyone else at the same time!”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Natsuki mused. “How long do you have until the gifts have to be ready, Toka-chan?”

“Um, until the graduation ceremony, I guess, which is about . . . seven weeks away?”

“And how often does the club meet to practise?”

“Well, they’ve stopped regular morning practice now that exams are next month, so its . . . Monday, Thursday and Friday evenings, and Saturday mornings, though most of the time some people stay back for the whole day to practise. Oh, but two weeks before the exam there’ll only be practise on Thursday and Saturday, and the week right before only on Thursday.”

“Hmm. Which gives us - nineteen opportunities to get the photos we need. How long do people usually stay for practise?”

“Three thirty to six thirty, and they can choose to stay longer. On Saturdays it’s from eight thirty to one, but they generally turn up earlier.”

Natsuki raised an eyebrow. “The volleyball club is really dedicated, huh . . . Well, that gives us - three into three into four - plus six - not bad. Forty two hours, excluding Saturday practice. Including Saturdays -”

“Sixty four and a half hours,” Shiori said. “But you’re forgetting that the third years will only be there for every other practice. Plus graduation’s the week after finals, and expecting anyone to work on this while exams are going on is too much. Ideally, we should be done with collecting photos by two weeks before exams begin, so there’s enough time to glue and decorate everything, and so we can study for our own exams - what’s so funny, Toka-chan?”

“Nothing,” Hitoka said, still grinning happily. “It’s just - you guys are really sweet, to help me out so seriously.”

“Don’t be silly,” Natsuki said, lips curving slightly in amusement. “You’d do the same for us.”

Shiori giggled. “You’d definitely go way more overboard trying to help us out. Don’t worry about it. In fact, I think I could help you with the layouts and decoration. I am in the art club, after all!”

“Oh, Shiori-chan, would you?” Hatiko gasped, clutching her hands. “Thank you so much, that would be such a help! You’ve got such great design sense!”

“I have, haven’t I?” Shiori grinned.

Natsuki stretched her legs out, glancing at them from under lowered lashes. “And here I was about to offer my services as a member of the photography club,” she said dulcetly. 

“Will you?!” Hitoka gasped, clutching her hands instead. “Will you really? Natcchan, thank you so much! Oh, I was actually worried because I don’t think I take very good photographs - I mean the one I took of Hinata - I don’t even know how it turned out to be that good, it was probably pure luck, and this time I’ll be running around with my manager duties at the same time so it would be kind of hard, but if you help with the photos we’d be done so much faster! But are you really sure you’ll be able to spare the time? I mean won’t you have your own club to go to -”

“Natcchan, you’re the worst,” Shiori said indignantly. “How could you steal Toka-chan from me like that?”

Natsuki smiled at her sweetly as she squeezed Hitoka’s hands. “It’ll be good practice for club, Toka-chan. Action shots and candid shots, yes? It’ll be fun. And I can go one better; there’s a girl from class four who’s in the club as well, and I’m sure she’d be glad to help.”

“Natcchan,” Hitoka wailed, almost knocking her flat with her hug. “You’re the best, you’re a lifesaver, you’re-”

“ _ Hai, hai _ , calm down a bit,” Natsuki laughed softly, patting her head. “Honestly, it’ll be helpful for us. It’s no problem.”

“Ah, but - !” Hitoka sat upright suddenly.  _ How could I have been so inconsiderate? _ “I need to ask the club members if they’re okay with this!”

“Don’t worry about that,” Shiori said, nonchalantly sidling between Natsuki and Hitoka, apparently oblivious to Natsuki’s mild glare. “They’ll be fine. In fact, they’ll be happy that the gift only involves minimal effort on their part. And we can have so many different things; photos of them looking cool while playing, photos of them laughing with everyone, old photos from previous years , and we can have everyone write really sappy and funny stuff under the photos - it’s going to be great. We can even tailor it to their personalities! Oh, let’s do that! Tell me all about them, and I’ll help you make it so personal they’ll treasure it for the rest of their lives.”

“You guys are really the best,” Hitoka sniffed, wiping a stray tear or two away.

Natsuki smiled a little, and Shiori patted her head as well, looking like a fond parent. “It’s a pleasure, Toka-chan. So tell me.”

“Okay, well, there’s Azumane Asahi-san, Sugawara Koushi-san, Shimizu Kiyoko-san, and Sawamura Daichi-san . . .”

  
  


“Boys, could you gather around before beginning your warm ups, please?” Takeda-sensei called out. “Yachi-san has something she’d like to tell you.”

“Woah,” Shiori murmured in Hitoka’s ear. “You weren’t kidding about how pretty Shimizu-san is.”

“Right?” Hitoka whispered back, as the boys began to crowd around them. “When I first saw her I thought her fan club would kill me just for standing next to her.”

The other girl from the photography club, Ayane, heard them, and leaned over to ask interestedly, “Does she really have a fan club?”

Hitoka had been a bit nervous about bringing Ayane into this at first - why would someone she didn’t even know agree to help with this project? Wouldn’t it be a bother? - but she had found that Ayane was an expressive, hardworking person, easy to like and good at making other people feel comfortable. She’d somehow ended up calling her ‘Ayane-chan’ within two days, and whenever she spoke to her she was always smiling within minutes.

Even now, she couldn’t help smiling in response to Ayane’s obviously sincere enthusiasm as she said,“Uh, well, not as far as I know . . .”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if she did,” Natsuki murmured, fiddling with the strap of her camera as Hinata and Narita hurried to complete the circle.

Takeda-sensei nodded to Hitoka when everyone was assembled. She swallowed and stepped forward.

“Um, so I wanted to make a few more posters, including everyone from the team this time - because it’s the team that went to Nationals, right? The crows that are flying again. So - so, um, I’ve brought in some people from other clubs to help. Kabakura Natsuki-san and Sakura Ayane-san, both from the photography club -” Natsuki bowed politely. Ayane bowed as well, giving everyone a cheesy grin. Hitoka felt slightly reassured as she saw an answering grin begin to spread across Noya-san, Tanaka-san, Suga-san and Hinata’s faces. “And Momose Shiori-san, from the art club, who will be helping me with designing the posters. They’ll be attending volleyball practice for a few weeks, but please act as if they’re not there - the goal is to get as many natural pictures as possible. Oh! And please be a - a little bit more careful about stray balls? The cameras they use aren’t very cheap, so - I apologise if I’m overstepping any bounds, but -”

“Not at all, Yacchan,” Daichi-san said reassuringly. “Sakura-san, Kabakura-san, Momose-san, we’re very glad to welcome you to the volleyball club. I’m the captain, Sawamura Daichi. Thank you for giving up your time to help us out. We’ll do our best to make your work easier.”

“Definitely,” Suga-san said, with his easy smile. “It’s really nice of you guys. Are you all first years?”

“Yes, um, Natcchan and I are in Toka-chan’s class, 1-5,” Shiori answered, looking slightly shy at being the center of attention.

“And I’m in 1-4!” Ayane said happily. 

“Oh, so you’re Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s classmate?” Hinata asked excitedly.

“Yep!” She flashed a grin at them, which Yamaguchi returned while Tsukishima merely nodded slightly.

“Um -” Kinoshita raised a hand. “I don’t want to be rude or anything, Momose-san, but why exactly do you need to attend our practise if you’re only helping with the poster designs?”

“Kinoshita,” Suga-san chided him. “That  _ is _ rude.”

“Besides, who cares why they’re here? Just accept the fact that cute girls are going to be attending practice, Kinoshita!” Tanaka muttered a tad too loudly, Noya nodding seriously beside him.

Judging by the flush on Shiori’s cheeks, she’d heard him, but she kept her composure remarkably well. “It’s all right. I’m actually not going to be attending all the practices - not even half, I think. The reason I’ll be attending some is because it’ll be easier for me to discuss and come up with ideas with Yacchan right here, in the environment that’s going to inspire the posters; and also because we thought of giving each poster kind of an individual theme. So I might need to request specific photos that capture a certain mood from Natcchan and Ayane-chan, which will be easier if I’m here, since I can do that on the spot.”

“Ah, I see. Sorry, I was just curious,” Kinoshita said, wilting slightly under the annoyed glance Daichi-san was giving him.

Natsuki had been taking in all the club members carefully. She now said politely, “We will try not to interrupt your practice in any way. If any action we take is a bother, please don’t hesitate to inform us.”

“No, no, I’m sure that won’t happen,” Daichi-san said hastily. “Really, we’re very glad to have you.”

“Thank you. We look forward to working with you.” Natsuki bowed once more.

“We look forward to working with you!” Shiori and Ayane echoed, bowing as well.

Coach Ukai, who had been tapping his fingers increasingly impatiently, now barked, “Right, that’s all. Get to warming up, and then I want to see a serve-and-receive rotation, with the usual partners. Am I clear?”

“Yes, coach!” the team chorused, beginning to disperse.

Coach Ukai leaned over to Hitoka, glancing at Ayane, Shiori and Natsuki briefly. “Yachi-san, I appreciate what you’re doing, but if this ends up interrupting practice in any way I won’t have a choice but to stop it.”

“Y-yes, coach! I’ll make sure it doesn’t!” she stammered. He gave her a long, piercing look before nodding and walking away.

Takeda-sensei laid a gentle hand on Hitoka’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Yachi-san,” he said comfortingly. “I’m sure it’ll work out.”

Shiori smiled at his back as he walked away. “It’s so nice that Take-chan is on our side. The coach is honestly kinda scary, Toka-chan.”

“Heh, a little, I guess, but he’s really nice when you get used to him. He just wants to make sure the team is in the best shape possible - he takes his job very seriously.”

Ayane pulled her brown, lazy curls up into a high ponytail and snapped a hair tie into place around it, grinning. “So, Hitoka-chan, introduce the volleyball club to us!”

“Oh, right! Okay, so those four are Hinata, Kageyama, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, all first years. Um, you might want to watch out for Hinata and Kageyama in particular when you’re working, because when they get fired up they get  _ really  _ fired up. Tanaka-senpai and Nishinoya-senpai - over there - are kind of like that, too. That’s Kinoshita-senpai, Narita-senpai, and Ennoshita-senpai. All five of them are second years. Daichi-san was the one who welcomed you before, as you know. The one with the grey hair is Sugawara-san, and the one with the long hair is Azumane-san.”

“Right, got it! Natcchan, you wanna start with some practice shots first?”

“Sure,” Natsuki agreed, and they moved apart together. Shiori sat next to Hitoka on the bench, chin in her hands.

Shimizu leaned across Hitoka, saying softly, “If there’s any way I can help, Momose-san, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Oh! Oh, of course! Thank you, Shimizu-san!”

Shimizu nodded and sat back, and Shiori gave Hitoka a look that said  _ She’s so beautiful I think I might have swallowed my tongue _ . Hitoka nodded wisely, then whispered, “But she’ll definitely help if we need it. She’s really kind. She explained everything about volleyball to me.”

“Ah, right! Tell me about the coolest moves in volleyball, Toka-chan, so we can get Natcchan and Ayane-chan to capture the best moments.”

“Okay! So first off is of course the jump serve. Then there are these things called quicks, and -”

  
  


_ The next week  _

 

“Right, get ready for the six on six match! We’re going to have the red team, Hinata, Sugawara, Nishinoya, Asahi, Narita, and Tsukishima versus the yellow team, Ennoshita, Sawamura, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, Tanaka, and Kinoshita. I want at least three members of each team to pull off a quick at least once. Er, photo girls, stand in places you won’t get hit by stray balls, yeah? I need to make a call, I’ll be back in ten minutes. Takeda-sensei will referee in the meantime. Let’s go, get a move on!”

Natsuki pulled a wry face. “Photo girls?” she murmured.

Hitoka looked sheepish. “Sorry, Natcchan-”

“Yachi-san, I need you on the scoreboard!”

“Yes, coach!” Hitoka shot her a look of quick apology before hurrying off to sit beside Shimizu-san, who welcomed her with a soft smile. Natsuki raised her camera and took a quick snap.

_ Nice _ , she thought approvingly as she scanned the photo.  _ The net’s at a good angle- _

“Hey, Natcchan! Which team you wanna take?”

She looked up at Ayane, who was standing with one hand on her hip, smiling cheerfully.

“Ah . . . The team with Sugawara-san and Azumane-san.”

“Right, okay!” Ayane grinned conspiratorially. “Thanks for giving me the chance to get more shots of those thighs.” 

“We’re not here so you can salivate over your senpais, Ayane-chan.’

“Oh, look who’s talking! Show me one photo of Suga-san you’ve taken that doesn’t include his beauty spot, if it doesn’t focus on it.”

Natsuki smiled at that, but couldn’t help blushing slightly. “Right, right, you got me,” she muttered. “Forgive me for admiring it . . . Go on, they’re going to start.”

Ayane grinned and hurried off, and Natsuki crouched on the bench, raising her camera and focusing on Azumane-san, who was serving first.

“Nice serve, Asahi-san!” Hinata cried. Natsuki took a quick snap of the quiet smile Azumane-san sent his way, and glanced at it quickly.

_ Not bad at all _ , she thought, raising the camera as the whistle blew.  _ I’m getting pretty good at capturing fleeting moments like those- _

Azumane-san tossed the ball up, ran forward and jumped, eyes fixed on the ball. Natsuki clicked, and looked down at the camera as the ball soared over the net.

_ Excellent! _ She nearly smiled at the screen, so strong was the satisfaction curling in her belly. Azumane-san hung in the air perfectly, looking up at the falling ball, focus in every line of his body, eyes sharp. 

“All right!” Sawamura-san called out, and received the ball neatly. Natsuki, eyeing the red patches blooming on his forearms with a faint wince, nearly missed Kageyama setting the ball.

“Ennoshita-san!” he barked, and Ennoshita-san spiked hard, trying to go for a cross-shot.

Natsuki heard a soft, “One,  _ two _ -” and Tsukishima and Narita-san jumped, blocking the shot neatly. Tanaka grunted as he hit the floor in a dive, but the ball bounced off the court an inch away from his hands.

“Nice, Tsukishima, Narita!”

“Nice block!”

“Tsukki, nice!”

“Oy, Yamaguchi, don’t support the other team!”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

And Natsuki looked blankly at the photo displayed on the camera’s small screen.

_ Why did I . . .? _

It was a good picture, she had to admit that, but if it had been anyone else she wouldn’t have called it striking. Yet here - the expression was one of careful concentration, and the normally indifferent eyes gleamed with something almost like enthusiasm as they tracked the incoming ball. It was so incredibly different from how he usually looked that it gave the viewer a mild shock. Or, in her case, a rather substantial shock.

Natsuki felt the oddest stir of curiosity in the back of her mind as she glanced at where he was standing, watching Azumane-san grip the ball in readiness for his next serve, with a detached air. He had intrigued her a little before, but she had paid him no mind apart from a few politely exchanged words. Now, she couldn’t help wondering . . .

_ Is it only volleyball that makes you look like that, Tsukishima? That shatters your carefully constructed mask? _

_ Could I shatter it if I tried? _

Across the room, Hitoka caught sight of the tiny smile playing about Natsuki’s mouth, and couldn’t suppress a shiver of apprehension.

_ Oh boy, when Natcchan looks like that it’s always bad news for someone . . . should I - _

She half rose in her seat, opening her mouth to call out -

“Yachi-san, the score.”

“Ah, yes, sorry!” She hastily corrected the score, then glanced back at Natsuki, who now looked perfectly normal as she aimed her camera at Suga-san.

_ Maybe it was just my imagination? Well, I can always ask her about it later. _

It ended up slipping her mind, and she never did. In years to come, after hearing this story, Tsukishima would say often and with acerbity that if only Hitoka had intervened at that moment, or even that very day, he would have escaped a horrendous fate. 

And in response, Natsuki would only smile like she had that day; and he would never quite stop himself from smiling back.

  
  


“Oy, Yamaguchi, don’t support the other team!” Tanaka grumbled as he got to his feet. Ayane snapped a photo of Daichi-san’s face (“You use the same names as the team already?” Shiori had said, looking half-amused and half-exasperated, and Natsuki had simply sighed quietly.). Not a bad photo - Daichi-san looked more fond than anything else, despite the fact that his team members were squabbling like ten year olds. 

_ Definitely one for the scrapbook,  _ she thought, grinning as she raised the camera again.  _ With the caption - ‘Daichi-san acts all tough, but we know he really loves us’. Heh . . . I wonder if Hitoka-chan will let me help with the scrapbook itself? I can help make it so mushy and embarrassing for them - _

Kageyama had tossed after Kinoshita received Azumane-san’s serve, and Yamaguchi slammed the ball with his palm, sending it hurtling towards the ground.

“Nice, Yamaguchi!” Kinoshita shouted, running forward with Daichi-san for the block.

“Got it!” Noya-san yelled, diving under the ball and sending it flying up in a neat arc to Suga-san’s waiting hands.

“Hinata!” Suga-san called as he tossed it. Ayane couldn’t help snapping a photo of the half-smile on his face, and had to choke down a small squeal as she looked at it.

_ Goddamn, why is he so cute even through the net?! Look at the way his hair is flying! Look at the way he’s smiling over his shoulder! That beauty spot! Those arms! This is entirely unfair! Why is he a third year and not in my class?! _

She met Natsuki’s eyes across the court, and Natsuki raised an eyebrow.

_ Man, it’s like she can read my mind. _ Ayane grimaced. _ Fine, fine, I’m being serious now. _

Natsuki nodded slightly and turned back to her own camera. On the court, Hinata grinned as he leapt and spiked the ball furiously. But Ennoshita received it, moving astonishingly quickly, and Kageyama got under the ball though it was slightly off.

“Tanaka-san!” he called as he tossed.

“Just try to block this, damn it!” Tanaka roared, slamming the ball so it whizzed across the net in a blistering straight. Tsukishima was near the other end of the net, so it was left to Asahi-san and Sugawara-san to block. Ayane heard the faint click from Natsuki’s camera as she snapped their block. It wasn’t enough to stop the ball, though, and Noya-san dived in a fruitless receive just a second too late.

“Hell yeah!” Tanaka yelled, whipping his shirt off and whirling it above his head. “How d’ya like that, huh?!”

Ayane blinked in surprise. Then she met Natsuki’s gaze again, and choked on a laugh at the glimpse of her expression she caught before Natsuki politely averted her eyes.

“Tanaka!” Suga-san exclaimed, sounding like a scandalized maiden. “Don’t do that!”

Tanaka stopped and looked around, puzzled. “Huh? Why’s it a prob-”

His glance fell on Ayane, and his eyes suddenly went wide. She couldn’t seem to look away as Natsuki had done, and when she met his horrified gaze she was torn between giggling helplessly at his expression and trying to count his (not particularly unattractive) abs. 

“Um, Tanaka-senpai, it’s not just the club members present anymore,” Yamaguchi offered hesitantly.

“I think he realized that, Yamaguchi,” Kinoshita said, his wide grin reflected on many other faces as Tanaka scrambled to pull his shirt on again, red to the ears. Takeda-sensei sighed quietly, looking resigned, and Daichi-san rubbed his forehead exasperatedly.

A sudden urge to defuse the situation swept over Ayane. After all, no girl present was any kind of dewy innocent, and the one who most fit that description witnessed the team changing in front of her every other day. It was silly to make such a fuss over this! It was just a shirt that had come off, right? No big deal at all.

So she called out the first thing that popped into her mind, which happened to be a cheery, “Aw, Tanaka-san, don’t cover up now. The photo girls were just starting to enjoy the show!”

_ Wait - _

She clapped a hand to her mouth instantly.

_ Did I actually just say that?! DID I JUST - _

From across the gym, Natsuki sent her a glare that said clearly  _ Do NOT drag me into this,  _ and there was a single beat of silence before Ennoshita snickered quietly, hand over his mouth.

Kinoshita, Narita, and Noya-san burst into howling laughter as though they had just been waiting for Ennoshita’s signal. Takeda-sensei looked mildly horrified, Hitoka’s jaw dropped, Suga-san and Yamaguchi’s shoulders were shaking gently, Kageyama and Hinata looked blank, Tsukishima looked faintly irritated, and Daichi-san looked as though he had no clue what to do. 

And Tanaka looked at her as though she had just dropped from another planet, his face now flaming scarlet rather than dull red.

“Um - um, Sakura-san, that was hardly appropriate!” Takeda-sensei said reprovingly, beginning to blush in sympathy with the still speechless Tanaka, who had finally managed to get his shirt on properly.

“ _ Hai _ , sensei! I apologise, I shouldn’t have, it was -” Ayane bowed frantically.

Noya-san hooted, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Way to go, Ryuu!”

“Noya -” Tanaka growled.

Kinoshita whooped as well, still giggling. “Come on, Ryuu, don’t be shy! The ladies appreciate your manly -”

Daichi clamped a strong hand over his mouth. “Let’s continue the game, please,” he said firmly, nodding to Takeda-sensei.

“Well, Sakura-san, kindly don’t say anything like that again, and Tanaka-san, control yourself, please. Yellow team, it’s your serve.”

Ayane sank back into her chair shakily, clutching her camera. As Kageyama headed to the back for his serve, she saw Yamaguchi pat Tanaka’s shoulder kindly with a soft ‘Don’t mind”. Tanaka nodded in return, studiously avoiding looking in Ayane’s direction.

Coach Ukai came in in another five minutes, and both teams got far more serious, playing five sets without pause. Ayane was glad to see that Tanaka seemed to forget his embarrassment in the game after a few points, yelling as boisterously as before by the end of the first set.

“But I still need to fix it,” she muttered to Natsuki after the game was over and the boys were allowed to take a break.

“I’ll say you do,” she replied dryly. “What on earth made you shout that out?”

“I don’t even know!” Ayane wailed. “He looked so uncomfortable and everyone was laughing, I just wanted to -”

“Mmhm, make him more uncomfortable and make everyone laugh more. I did tell you we aren’t here to salivate over-”

“That’s  _ not _ what I was - !”

“Oh, come on, I saw you looking at his abs.”

“ _Nyghh,_ _don’t say that, I wasn’t_ \- “

“You very definitely were.”

Hitoka hurried up to them just then, red-faced from running around handing out towels and water. “Ayane-chan, how could you say that?” she said, half-giggling. “Poor Tanaka-senpai looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.”

Ayane buried her face in her hands with a groan. “I know, I know, I need to apologise.”

“Well, if you like, I could ask him to step outside the gym for a minute?”

“Would you really? Hitoka-chan, you’re the best!”

She went off with a laugh and a self-deprecating wave, and Ayane slipped out in what she hoped what was an unobtrusive manner, hurrying to stand by the steps outside the gym. She couldn’t help shifting restlessly as she waited, but she didn’t have to wait all that long, for it wasn’t five minutes before Tanaka stepped out as well. He froze when he saw her, red beginning to steal into his cheeks.

“Um - Tanaka-senpai, hi,” she said, smoothing her skirt down nervously. “Do you have a minute?”

“I - uh, yeah, I do,” he stammered, tucking his hands into his pockets uncomfortably.

“I just - I just wanted to say - I’m really sorry about saying that, before! It embarrassed you, and -” She bowed hastily. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you or anything, I just - but it didn’t turn out how I meant it to - I’m sorry!”

“Ah - ah, well, you don’t have to bow or anything!” She looked up to see him rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. He chuckled nervously. “I just - well, I guess I kinda hoped that the first time a girl said somethin’ like that to me she’d actually mean it -”

“But I did!”

He look at her properly, disbelief and embarrassment evident in his expression. She hastened to say, “I mean - look, the reason I said that was to kind of show that it was okay, you know? That neither Natcchan nor I thought any less of you for - for that. That it’s not such a big deal. And that, uh -” She grinned a little despite the heat in her cheeks, trying to sound nonchalant. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes. I don’t mean that in a creepy way, I just - !”

He burst out laughing, looking far more comfortable than before. “Thanks, Sakura-san! That’s, um - really nice of you to say.”

“It’s - it was just an observation - “

“Yeah, I get it.” He held up his hands, eyes still bright with laughter. “I’m not readin’ anything into it, I swear.”

“So . . . my apology’s accepted?”

“Definitely.” He grinned. “And I appreciate you tryin’ to defuse the situation, earlier. No hard feelings.”

“Phew.” She leaned back against the wall of the gym, grinning back at him as she wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. “That’s a relief. You’re a pretty cool guy, Tanaka-senpai. I wouldn’t have wanted you to have a bad impression of me.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” His cheeks were still tinged with red, and he didn’t hold her gaze for more than a few seconds.

_ A bit shy around girls, huh? _ Ayane smiled to herself as she studied him.  _ That’s kinda cute. _

“Heh, thanks! Ah, sorry, am I keeping you from practice?”

“Oh, shit, coach is gonna be after my blood.” He paused on the top step, looking down at her. “Uh, Sakura-san, we usually go and grab pork buns or iced tea from the Sakanoshita store once we’re done with practice. You’re - you’re welcome to come along, if you like - Kabakura-san too, of course.”

She grinned widely. “Sure, I’d like that! I’ll treat you to pork buns for today’s awkwardness.”

“Oh, no, that’s totally fine -”

“Tanaka!” Coach Ukai roared from inside. “Where the hell is Tanaka?”

“Damn.” Tanaka hastily pulled the gym door open, looking back for a second. “We’ll talk about it after practise, yeah?”

“Sure.” Ayane watched him hurry inside, still grinning for some odd reason.

_ Though if I had to guess, the shy way he smiled when he said ‘You’re not so bad yourself _ ’  _ might have something to do with it. _

A shadow moved across the warm light spilling out from the gym, and Natsuki poked her head out of the doors. She scanned Ayane’s face for a moment, then asked casually, “Went well?”

“Pretty well, yeah,” Ayane replied, hopping onto the top step.

Natsuki watched her for a moment more, then smiled slightly and let her in. “Glad to hear it.”

Ayane smiled in return, retying her ponytail.

“Shall we get back to it, then?”  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Natcchan remind anyone of Tsukki? Yes? No? Maybe?
> 
> Also look at that, I got ‘Shut up, Yamaguchi’ in two chapters running. ^.^
> 
> ALSO. I only realised this like weeks after I wrote this thing, but I ended up with Uraraka Ochacho's VA's name in this entirely by accident. (I took 'Ayane 'cuz I like the way it sounds and 'Sakura' because Gekkan Shojo Nozaki-kun and just. Yeah.) It wasn't intentional!


	6. For You, Senpai - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which handsprings and glitter pens make an appearance, and Chikara performs his first duty as captain amid tears and shaky smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - The ending of this chapter contains high, possibly dangerous levels of Haikyuu!! feels and sappiness, which may cause squealing, quiet whimpering, loud howling, rolling around clutching at your heart, and in extreme cases, tears that may or may not subside within a few hours. Reader discretion is advised.

_Two weeks later_

“No,” Ayane gasped. “They didn’t!”

“They did!” Tanaka exclaimed. “I swear they did, I was right there! They totally ignored Daichi-san, and then Hinata was like ‘I challenge you to a contest!’ and then the dean walked in and they had their contest - Hinata had to receive Kageyama’s serve - and they did that when he was standing right there. Hinata missed the first ball entirely, but the second ball bounced off his arms into his face, and then right into _his_ face- “

Shiori choked, and Ayane, walking on Tanaka-san’s other side, burst out laughing.

“- man, it was so funny - his wig flew threw the air and landed right on top of Daichi-san’s head. And those two _still_ didn’t stop bickering!”

Ayane clutched at her sides, giggling helplessly, and Shiori couldn’t help joining her as she imagined the dean’s wig getting knocked off by a stray volleyball.

“Ahh, I wish I could have seen that!” Noya-san exclaimed, gesturing wildly with the stick of his popsicle.

“If you’d been there you would have laughed along with those two, and you would have made _me_ laugh as well, so it’s a good thing you weren’t,” Tanaka-san shot over Shiori’s head.

Noya-san grinned, licking the last of the popsicle off the stick. “Probably, yeah.”

“Why weren’t you there, Noya-senpai?” Shiori asked curiously. To her mild surprise, Noya-san went slightly red and looked very pleased.

“Man, all you first years are insanely polite! ‘Senpai’ this and ‘senpai’ that.”

“Um, should I not-?”

“Don’t worry about it, Momose-chan,” Suga-san said, looking back from where he was walking with Azumane-san. “These two idiots just get excited when you call them ‘senpai’, that’s all.”

“Oh, I see.” She gave Noya-san a quizzical look, lips quirking.

Noya-san avoided her gaze, flailing around with the stick once more as though he was erasing Suga-san’s words from the air. “Ahem! Anyway! The reason I wasn’t there is because I had been suspended from club activities for a month.”

Ayane peered around Tanaka-san, skipping over a crack in the sidewalk. “Why, what did you do that was so bad?”

“I broke the vase outside the dean’s office!” Noya-san proclaimed with a wide grin.

Shior could feel giggles threatening to overcome her once more. “W-why do you look so proud about that?!”

“Man, the volleyball club gets mixed up with the dean a lot, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it, Sakura-san,” Daichi-san said from behind them, the streetlights making him look unnaturally haggard. “These guys have given me so many grey hairs . . . Ennoshita, seriously, good luck next year.”

Ennoshita, walking beside him, made a wry face. “Thanks, captain.”

“Wait, wait, so how did you break the vase?” Shori asked, brushing her bangs out of her face as the night air tossed her hair about. “Did you run into it or something?”

“Ah, well -” Noya-san suddenly looked far less animated, and his eyes darted forward. Shiori followed his gaze to see Azumane-san looking back at them over his shoulder, a small, resigned smile on his face.

“You can tell them, Noya, it’s fine.”

“You sure, Asahi-san?”

“Yeah, it really is fine.” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “It’s a pretty pathetic story, but -.”

“Don’t say that, Asahi-san!”

“It’s the truth, though, Noya. It’s okay to tell them.”

Shiori gazed at him curiously, wondering what he was talking about. He was definitely nowhere near as scary as she had first thought he was, but he seemed strong and confident enough, if in a mild way. The look in his eyes now, as he smiled reassuringly at Noya-san  - it spoke of a weakness he was truly ashamed of, but had managed to overcome. It took a certain kind of strength, she thought, to be able to look such a weakness in the eye, even if it was in the past.

“Okay, you weren’t _that_ \- you were - “

“He was kind of pathetic, yeah,” Daichi-san said from behind them. “But he took a lot onto his shoulders, and honestly our team just wasn’t good enough back then.”

“Ah, so many cryptic statements!” Ayane exclaimed. “What exactly happened?”

The story had been told in its entirety by the time they reached the Sakanoshita store, with many interjections from Hinata about how Asahi-san managed to break through the Iron Wall of Dateko after coming back and looked _so cool!_ while doing so.

“You don’t seem to tell us any of the juicier gossip from the volleyball club, Toka-chan,” Natsuki said, looking at Hitoka mock reprovingly as she settled onto the pavement.

“Kabakura-san, you could take the bench if you like,” Narita said, looking mildly concerned, Natsuki smiled up at him politely.

“That’s all right, Narita-san. I prefer to sit down. Besides - “ Shiori didn’t miss the quick glance she darted at the tallest person present. “I wouldn’t want to take Tsukishima-kun’s spot.”

Shiori exchanged a look with Hitoka, not knowing whether to laugh or grimace. Natsuki had been gently riling up Tsukishima every chance she got for more than a week, and it seemed like it was beginning to tell on him.

His eyes flashed, but he went to the bench and sat down as though he hadn’t heard anything. Yamaguchi hovered for a moment, then elected to sit on the pavement by the bench, next to Hitoka and Hinata. Shiori settled herself next to Natsuki, and Ayane followed suit, turning to continue her conversation with Tanaka-san.

“Does anyone want anything for the store?” Ennoshita-san asked them. They all shook their heads, and he moved on to ask the others.

“Well, I didn’t really think you guys would be interested in stuff like this,” Hitoka said in response to Natsuki’s earlier remark.

“Never stopped you from boasting about Hinata and Kageyama’s freak quick, or Noya-san’s rolling thunder,” Shiori said teasingly.

Hinata lit up like a lightbulb. “You were boasting about us, Yachi-san?”

“I wasn’t - not _boasting_ , just -”

“Really, really enthusiastic,” Natsuki said serenely. “Right.”

Noya-san grinned his blinding grin. “So did rolling thunder live up to the expectations Yacchan set?”

“Totally,” Shiori said, grinning back in spite of herself. “It’s very cool, Noya-senpai.”

“Stop, you’ll give him a big head!” Kinoshita called, Suga-san nodding in agreement.

“Shut up, Kinoshita! Just because the girls aren’t complimenting _you_ -”

“I thought it was really cool too, the first time I saw it!” Hitoka said hastily. “I’m sure it took a lot of practice - I don’t think I’d ever be able to do anything like that.”

“You’re doing your best, though, Toka-chan,” Shiori said, stifling a small yawn.

“You’re trying to learn rolling thunder, Yacchan?” Noya-san asked interestedly.

Natsuki chuckled softly, and Shiori laughed as Hitoka went bright red. “No, I’m not! It’s just - I - I, um -”

“I’m teaching her some basic gymnastics stuff,” Shiori said, taking pity on her. “Natcchan and I used to go to the same gymnastics class actually, a long time ago, but it’s just been me for around five years now.”

“Watching so many wonderfully athletic boys practise day in and day out inspired our Toka-chan with the flame of emulation,” Natsuki said, giving the furiously blushing Hitoka a teasing look. “But she didn’t feel like volleyball was quite her thing, so Shiori-chan started teaching her instead.”

“That’s amazing, Yachi-san!” Yamaguchi exclaimed. “What did you learn how to do?”

“I’m still learning!” Hitoka exclaimed hastily. “I’m still not very good-”

“That’s okay, no one’s good at the beginning! Show us, we wanna see!” Hinata exclaimed enthusiastically.

Hitoka gave Shiori a pleading glance. She grinned, but said, “Actually she can’t, Hinata-kun. It’s kind of dangerous for a beginner to do gymnastics on a hard surface like this. If she got it wrong, she could do herself a serious injury.”

“Oh, I see . . .”

“Then why don’t you do it, Momose-san?” Noya-san said, as enthusiastic as Hinata had been. “You’ve been doing it for a long time, it should be safe for you, right?”

“Um-” She blinked. “Well - I guess, but - I mean, I couldn’t - “

But Hinata added his entreaties to Noya-san’s - even Yamaguchi joined in - and she was powerless in the face of their eager faces. So she stood up with a sigh and shrugged off her jacket, thankful that she was still wearing her gym tracks.

_Though if I’d been wearing my skirt they couldn’t have asked me to do this . . ._

She handed her glasses to Natcchan, quickly tucked her shirt into her pants, blushing under the scrutiny of the team, then flexed her wrists experimentally.

“Triple handspring,” Natsuki called out, smiling. “You’re good at those.”

Shiori shot her a dirty look, then settled into a low stance, taking a deep breath.

_Okay, okay . . . a one, a two, a one two three four -_

She ran a few steps forward, lifted a knee high and swung into the first handspring.

. .   _two . . . three, and - !_

She pivoted on her hands after launching into the fourth, ending up facing the way she had come and, just for good measure, performed a simple backflip. When her feet hit the ground, she wobbled slightly and sank down onto one knee.

“Ugh! Ah, sorry about that,” she said sheepishly as she rose to her feet, tugging her shirt back out. “I’m a bit rusty, I think.”

“Uwahh!” Hinata applauded furiously, eyes sparkling. “That was so cool, Momose-san!”

“Seriously!” Suga-san called out, clapping as well. “That was amazing!”

Shiori blushed, hurrying back to where she was sitting as everyone joined in the applause, shouting out more compliments.

“That was amazing to watch, Momose-san,” Noya-san declared, grinning widely as she sat down. ‘You’re really talented.”

Shiori met his gaze, and was suddenly at a loss for words at his sincerity and the very real respect shining in his eyes.

“T-thank you, Noya-san, that means a lot,” she managed to stammer. When he turned away to try to steal a sip of Asahi-san’s tea, she felt like as though a powerful searchlight had shifted out of her eyes.

“Noya-san is kind of intense, huh,” Ayane murmured.

“Yeah.” She watched as he threw his head back to laugh, dim light from the storefront gleaming in his hair and bright eyes, and a small smile began to play about her mouth. “But I kind of like it.”

 

⸶⸷

 

_Two weekends later_

 

Hinata pressed the bell, then took a step back, clutching the strap of his bag as he bounced eagerly on his feet. It was super lucky that Coach had canceled practice today -

( _I have a horrible cold, you lot have got exams around the corner, and there aren’t any matches for the next three months, almost. So take a day off to relax, yeah?)_

\- so they could use this Saturday to work on the third years’ gift. Hinata nodded firmly to himself. They were all studying really hard and doing their best, and they’d been really amazing senpais to him the whole year, so he was definitely going to put his heart into helping out today.

“Man, Sakura-chan’s house is pretty big, huh?” Noya-san said, looking up at the front of the house.

“It really is,” Narita agreed, taking in the wide, well-tended lawn in front.

“Maybe her dad’s a super rich banker,” Hinata said thoughtfully.

Kinoshita grinned. “Or maybe her mom’s a really popular model.”

Tanaka snorted. “Or maybe her whole family is secretly part of the yakuza.”

“Maybe the house has just been in the family for a long time,” Kageyama said, looking blankly at them.

Ennoshita gave him a look of mild approval. “That seems most likely, yes.”

Tanaka clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Such a boring explanation, Kageyama.”

“It’s actually the correct explanation,” Yamaguchi volunteered. “Sakura-san’s family have been living in the area for more than eighty years, I think.”

“Damn, that’s a long time . . .”

The heavy door swung open, and Sakura-san beamed at them, dressed in a pale blue sweater and grey sweatpants. “Hey everyone, come in, come in! Sorry I took so long to get the door, I was upstairs with the others.”

“It's totally fine, Sakura-san!” Hinata said, waving in greeting. “We're looking forward to - ah, pardon the intrusion! - we're looking forward to helping today!”

She grinned at him - he liked her smile, she smiled like she really meant it every time, like Inuoka - and said, “That's great, I'm sure we'll have fun today. We're gonna make it the best present ever, right, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata grinned in return, slipping his shoes off as the others chorused “Pardon the intrusion,” behind him. “Definitely!”

Sakura-san gave him a cheerful thumbs up and moved forward to greet everyone else, allowing Hinata to take in the house.

Wow, the entrance hall alone was larger than his room at home! A doorway on the right led to a big drawing room with extremely comfortable looking sofas, and a doorway on the left led to a spacious dining room. In front, a gleaming staircase spiraled upwards to the first floor. The walls were hung with - well, it was probably art, since it didn't look like anything he'd ever seen before. He was peering at a painting that looked like a whirlpool of every shade of red and purple possible when Sakura-san came back.

“Right, go on upstairs, everyone! We made a start already, and we've got everything set up. I'll just get some drinks and snacks, okay? It's the second door on the left as soon as you reach the landing.”

She disappeared into the dining room, which was presumably connected to the kitchen, and Hinata bounded up the stairs, eager to get started, barely registering the murmurs of his teammates behind him.

“Wow, this house is . . .” 

“ . . . Right?”

“I’m backing the famous model theory now.”

“I say it’s a rich dad who owns a huge multinational company.”

“Maybe _both_ her parents are models.”

“Then why would they come and settle here? Tokyo would be best, right? Or even Sendai . . .“

“Can you guys keep your voices down?”

“Maybe they just got the house renovated recently, and that’s why it looks so impressive?”

“Man, Yamaguchi, stop coming up with all these reasonable explanations. And even if they did that it’d still cost a ton of money, right? Hey, Tsukishima, what do you think?”

“ . . . I don’t really care.”

“Tch, come on, don’t be so boring . . .”

Their voices trailed off as Hinata hopped up the top step and looked around interestedly. The corridor was long, with more paintings hung on the walls, and lit by sunlight streaming in through a huge window at the far end.

_Oh, cool, the ceiling’s blue! I wish my house was painted in such interesting colours . . ._

“Oy, dumbass, don’t jump up the stairs like that, it’s rude,” Kageyama said from somewhere by his elbow. Hinata stuck his tongue out at him, pulling a face, and hurried to the right door before Kageyama could catch him by the hair.

“Excuse me, we’re coming in!” he said loudly, opening the door.

Kabakura-san was kneeling on the bed, sorting through a pile of photos, and Yachi-san and Momose-san were seated on the floor, surrounded by scissors, glue, glitter pens, and sheets of colourful card stock.

“Oh, Hinata!” Yachi-san exclaimed happily. “Kageyama! You’re all here!”

“Morning, Yachi-san, Momose-san, Kabakura-san!”

“Good morning,” Kageyama said, bowing.

“Morning!” Momose-san said, smiling as she stood up. “Come in, come in, sit down. Ah, Ennoshita-senpai, Noya-senpai, everyone! Toka-chan, could you move those papers from there so they have place to sit?”

“Is this Sakura-san’s room?” Tanaka asked curiously, a tinge of red in his cheeks. “It doesn’t look like the rest of the house much.”

Hinata agreed with him - the room was certainly spacious, but it looked pretty normal, with a bed, a desk, a dresser, a cupboard, and a low table in the middle of the floor. No art anywhere.

“Yeah, it is her room,” Momose-san said, sitting back down opposite Yachi-san. “Her dad’s in the design industry, which is why the rest of the house is pretty overwhelming, but Ayane-chan insisted on having a normal room once she turned thirteen.”

“Yep,” a cheery voice chirped, and Hinata turned to see Sakura-san balancing a massive tray in her hands as she tried to edge through the doorway. “Precisely so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed if friends came over in junior high and high school.”

“Ah, can I help with that?” Hinata jumped to his feet and hurried over, grasping one side of the tray.

“Thank you, Hinata-kun, you’re sweet!” Sakura-san grinned, carefully setting the tray down on the table. “Everyone, take what you like.”

“Uh, wow, Sakura-san, you’ve got enough to feed an army here,” Narita said, taking in the number of different drinks and snacks.

Sakura-san swept a few curls out of her face, settling next to Kabakura-san on the bed as Kageyama and Noya-san began to open the packets of chips with a brief ‘Thank you!’. “Well, Toka-chan warned me that half the members of the volleyball team have appetites to rival an elephant’s, so -”

“That’s true enough,” Ennoshita said wryly. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble, though, Sakura-san. You’re already doing such a lot to help us.”

“Ah, not this again, senpai. We’re having fun, and it’s really no bother. Right, Natcchan?”

Kabakura-san nodded absently, scrutinizing the picture she was holding. “The president of the photography club was really impressed with some of the photos we managed to take, too. Don’t worry about it, Ennoshita-senpai.”

“Well, if you’re sure .  .”

“So what are going to be doing today?” Hinata asked eagerly, almost bouncing in place.

“Toka-chan’s the captain here,” Momose-san said, smiling at Yachi-san. “All questions are to be directed to her!”

Yachi-san blushed, smiling nervously. “Don’t call me captain, Shiori-chan . . .”

“Ah, got it. So how can we help, Yacchan?” Kinoshita said, grinning as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“Um, o-okay . . . so we’re making four different books, and they’re all going to be personalized -”

“Personalized?” Hinata titled his head. “Personalized how?”

“W-well, for example, for Shimizu-san’s book, we managed to get some messages from her old friends and teammates on the track and field team from junior high, about how they support her and how they’re glad she joined the volleyball club after leaving her old team. And for Suga-san, we got a lot of pictures where he looks taller than usual, because he worries that he’s the shortest third year. Things like that, so that it, um, resonates? Resonates as much as possible.”

“Oh, I see!”

“That’s pretty amazing,” Ennoshita said, looking surprised. “You guys have put in that much thought and effort into this?”

Momose-san grinned. “Nothing but the best when helping out Toka-chan! Credit for the ideas to me and her, please.”

“And credit fo’ th’ execushun here, pleash!” Sakura-san raised her hand, grinning around the stick of Pocky in her mouth.

“Ahh, as your senpais we should have helped you out more, Yacchan,” Noya-san said, wilting slightly. “I feel super guilty now. You guys did so much on your own.”

“Well, I agree, but we’re here to help now, right?” Narita said peaceably. “Let’s let Yacchan finish what she was saying.”

“Ah, right, so - so yeah, so we’ve sketched out plans for everyone. Of course, if anyone thinks we should add something or remove something we can do that, so don’t hesitate to suggest any new ideas. I thought we could split up into four groups, one for each book?”

Kabakura-san interjected then, without looking up from her work. “Or we could split up based on the tasks involved. We need people to cut pages and bind them together, so steady hands would be welcome there. Sticking the photos is, of course, a large part of creating the book, and each picture needs to be stuck properly, without any glue spilling over. And good penmanship will come in useful for the title page and headings.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, idly swirling a can of lemon soda around in his hand. “I don’t think we have enough level headed people here to make four groups like that, unfortunately.”

She looked up at that, meeting his gaze with one quite as blandly disinterested as his own. “Is that so? Then what do you suggest we do, Tsukishima-kun?”

Hinata shivered slightly. Was it his imagination, or was there a faint crackle in the air, on the very edge of hearing, as the two of them locked gazes?

It was a few moments before Tsukishima blinked, looking faintly annoyed. “My suggestion would be to start by setting the few people who _are_ conscientious and have steady hands to making the pages, and then work on each book in turn, involving everyone’s opinions and effort as they come together. I assume there will be some kind of comments page where we write messages, or something of the sort?”

“That was part of the plan, yes,” Kabakura-san said, her gaze still steady on his face. “We thought a page where you write messages or captions under your own name, and some space at the end for anonymous messages.”

“Then the book can be passed around at once so we can get that over with as well.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Ennoshita shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

“No problems here.”

“I’m okay with it.”

“So, shall we go with that?” Yachi-san asked tentatively.

“Yep!”

“Sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay! Thank you for the suggestion, Tsukishima-kun. So - um, who _are_ the people with steady hands?”

Even though Tanaka caused a bit of an uproar after that by raising his hand (“You? No way!” “Hey, I have pretty steady hands, okay?”) Hinata found it kind of hard to look away from Kabakura-san and Tsukishima. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, but she was smiling slightly to herself in a way that looked weirdly triumphant. And Tsukishima was giving her a look that seemed pretty irritated. He usually only looked like that when Noya-san and Tanaka-san were bugging him to do something he didn’t want to do -

“Okay, so we’ll start with Suga-san’s! Hinata, could you help out with sorting the photos? Natcchan and Ayane-chan will tell you how to -”

“Ah, yes!” He shook himself as he hurried over to the bed. He could think about - uh, whatever the heck that was - later. Right now he had to make sure the gift turned out to be the best gift ever!

 

⸶⸷

 

_A week later, four days before graduation and two days before the last volleyball practice scheduled for the year_

Asahi-san looked quizzical as he glanced around the gym, eyes flickering curiously across the line everyone was standing in.. “Um, isn’t there practice today? Where’s Coach Ukai? And how come no one’s changed?”

Suga-san and Daichi-san peered over his shoulders. “Oy, Asahi, move, you’re blocking the doorway,” Daichi-san said, prodding his back.

“Ah, sorry . . .”

“Why exactly hasn’t anyone changed, though?” Suga-san asked, slinging his bag off his shoulder.

Chikara sighed as he stepped forward.

( _Future captain, come on, you should definitely be in charge of this!_ )

Never mind the fact that he’d run away once, and wasn’t even a regular . . . oh well, at least this was easier for him than for Yacchan. She was looking unnaturally pale as she came to stand beside him, and he was sure her fingers were trembling.

“Well, actually, there isn’t going to be practice today. We just wanted to get you all here today - my apologies for that.”

They all looked puzzled. “Ennoshita, what exactly is going on?” Daichi-san asked in his no-nonsense tone.

He smiled, trying to look as composed as possible. “I’ll explain in a minute. If you could leave your bags there? And Shimizu-san, if you could stand beside the other third years, please?”

She gave him a curious look, but complied, walking over to stand beside Asahi-san.

“Right, thank you. Coach Ukai isn’t here, and no one has changed because, as I said, there isn’t going to be practice today. We scheduled it so that we could all meet with you, because we have something to give you.”

“Something to give us?” Suga-san echoed, still puzzled.

Chikara took a deep breath, and met their gazes squarely. “Yes, we - we wanted to convey our thanks to you all, today. Asahi-san, as our ace, you did your best and inspired all of us to do so as well. All of us learned so much from your dedication and patience, and your kindness and willingness to practice with us whenever we needed you. Suga-san, as vice-captain, you supported us and cheered us on, giving us the best advice and holding us together. I know it’s meant to be a joke when we say you’re like the mom of the team, but we really feel like you take care of us and push us forward as selflessly as the best mom there is. Shimizu-san, you’ve worked tirelessly for three years as manager, caring about the team, believing in us, helping us out with late practices and keeping track of our strengths and weaknesses so we can reach greater heights. We truly appreciate all you’ve done for us, especially given the fact that there were two idiots who never failed to give you a hard time -”

“Ennoshita -” Tanaka growled.

“Don’t ruin the mood, damn it, Ennoshita!” Noya cried indignantly.

There was a ripple of laughter, and the third years’ faces eased, the surprised and touched expressions from before receding somewhat as they smiled. Ennoshita smiled as well, ignoring Noya and Tanaka’s dark muttering behind him.

“And Daichi-san, you were honestly the best captain. You never wavered, you kept us on track, you coached us when we didn’t have a coach, and you pushed us beyond our limits while keeping us steady. Your faith in us, in our ability to get to Nationals, never disappeared, and we are all truly honoured - we all admire that tenacity and spirit more than we can say. Thank you - all of you, thank you so much.” He bowed deeply.

“Thank you!” the rest of the team chorused, bowing as well.

Daichi-san looked to be at a loss for words, Asahi-san’s mouth was tight, as though he was struggling to hold something back, and Shimizu-san seemed to be blinking more than usual. “Um-” Suga-san’s voice wavered even as he tried to smile. “Don’t - don’t think we don’t appreciate this, we really do, but what exactly-”

“Ah, right - my apologies. In a nutshell, we have gifts to give to you - as a token of our thanks - that we made ourselves, and which we put our hearts into. The goal was to create something that would remind you of this time, of all of us, years from now, and I think we’ve achieved that. I hope you will think so as well. And to present it to you -” He gestured to Yachi.

Her fingers were now twisted tightly in the material of her skirt, and her voice was shaky, but it was loud and she faced forward with her head high. “Um - I’m the person who’s known you all for the shortest time, but - the volleyball club means everything to me now. Everything Ennoshita-senpai said before - I agree with it wholeheartedly. This club is such an amazing thing, with so much heart, and I’m so glad I got to be a part of it. The team chose me to present these gifts because -”

“Because it was almost entirely your idea and your hard work,” Chikara said, smiling at her.

She blushed, but waved a nervous hand in dismissal. “A - a lot of it was my idea, but it was the whole team that made it possible. And they chose me to present it _because_ I’m the person who’s been here the shortest time. Because I’ve been here only a few months, and already found a home I never would have imagined finding - because this club gave me a purpose different from everyone else’s, and showed me the kind of person I can become. It - it really means something special to me, and I found that meaning in such a short time, so the team decided that I should have the - the honour of presenting you with your gifts.”

“Also because no one could agree on a single person to do this apart from Yachi-san,” Kinoshita murmured just loud enough to be heard, and there wasn’t a single person there who didn’t grin.

Yachi blushed again, but she was smiling as she picked up the four neatly wrapped packages.

She stepped up to Shimizu-san first, handing her the midnight blue package. “Thank you, Hitoka-chan,” Shimizu-san murmured, accepting it with a slight bow.

Asahi-san was next, and he smiled at her, hastily wiping away a lone tear as she handed him the forest green package. “Thank you, Yacchan.”

Suga-san got a pretty red package, and he patted Yachi on the shoulder as he received it. “Thank you!”

Which left the deep purple package for Daichi-san. “Thank you very much, Yacchan,” he smiled, bowing like Shimizu-san had.

She bowed to all of them before hurrying back to stand by Chikara’s side. He smiled at her, and then turned back to the third years. “You can open them now, if you like.”

“So pretty!” Suga-san exclaimed as he peeled away the paper to reveal the cover of his scrapbook. His book had been - silver, right? Yes, pale blue decorated with a silver pen.

There were similar exclamations from the other three as they saw their own books - Momose-san and Yacchan had really outdone themselves with the decoration.

Shimizu-san opened hers first, scanning the pages quickly, and for the first time Chikara saw her smile really broadly.

“How did you get these?” she asked, holding the book open at the page with messages from her former teammates.

Chikara gestured to Yachi. “All credit to Yacchan. She and Momose-chan were responsible for the design and most of the ideas.”

“It’s - it’s really immensely thoughtful of you. Thank you, Hitoka-chan.”

An exclamation from Daichi-san interrupted Yachi’s bashful disclaiming. “Wait, this is - I know this photo, Kabakura-san showed it to me the other day. Is that why - oh my god, is _that_ why they were taking photos? For this?”

Asahi-san laughed, eyes gleaming with happiness. “They’ve managed to make us look pretty cool, huh?”

“I can’t believe you guys roped in other classmates - where are they? We need to thank them!”

Yachi looked a little sheepish, but also pleased. “Well, they kind of felt that this was a moment the volleyball club should have to themselves - ”

Suga-san yelped loudly, causing all eyes to turn to him. “Who wrote this?! ‘Suga-san, I’ve looked up to you for your prowess with girls, ever since you managed to sneak out during training camp to meet -’ ” He broke off, face beginning to glow red. “I did _not_ sneak back in at two in the morning with - Tanaka, you wrote this, didn’t you?!”

“No, I didn't!” Tanaka exclaimed. “That sounds like something Noya would -”

“Hey, don’t pin it on me!”

Suga-san growled and sprang forward to chase them. Chikara tried to ignore the screeches and yelps behind him as he said, “How about we all sit down?”

So they sat in a circle, with Hinata edging as close to the third years as possible.

“Do you like them, do you like them?” he asked enthusiastically. “Look, Asahi-san, I wrote the caption for your jump serve photo!”

“ Umm . . . ‘Coolest jump serve _ever_ , way, _way_ cooler than the Great King’s.’ Is that it?”

“Yep! Do you like it?”

“Of course I do!” Asahi-san smiled warmly at him, ruffling his hair. “Thank you, Hinata.”

Daichi-san snorted with laughter, pointing at a photo in his book. “Who captioned that?”

Chikara craned his neck to see. It was a photo of Daichi-san watching the ball intently, ready to receive, with the caption ‘The secret of Daichi-san’s incredible concentration - he imagines the ball is the dean’s flying wig.’

Chikara laughed -

\- and suddenly-

\- and suddenly laughter was _everywhere._

“Who wrote that Kiyoko’s hair is manlier than mine? What does that even mean?! Kinoshita, it’s on your page!”

“Sorry, Asahi-san!”

“You don’t sound sorry at all!”

“Uh, can we just never ever mention the dean’s wig ever again, please?”

“Sorry, Daichi-san, it turns up quite a lot in your book . . .”

“This photo! Oh my god, Suga, you had soda coming out of both nostrils-”

“And _you_ balanced seven cans of soda on your head for fifteen minutes outside the Sakanoshita store , did they really take a photo of that?”

“Ah, there’s a photo of me and you with the other managers at training camp, Yacchan, that’s a pretty one . . .”

“Is this from nationals? Oh, wow, it is! Look at that amazing spike!”

“Asahi, were you carrying Hinata _and_ Noya on your shoulders during practice? How did I not notice that?!”

“Uh, you were busy yelling at Kageyama, Daichi-san . . “

“Dachi-san, look, we got one of you crying on Shimizu-san’s shoulder after Kageyama and Tsukishima got tangled in the net together - remember you said it was a miracle the gym hadn’t burned down -”

“Hey, that one has me teaching Yacchan how to serve-”

“How the hell did they get one of Noya smashing into Takeda-sensei while practising rolling thunder -”

“Ah, this is a nice one - even if Suga was dumping water all over my head . . .”

“The fixed mop. They took one of the _fixed mop . . ._ I can’t believe you guys . . .”

“Ahh, look at the caption - ‘At training camp, where you were the coolest captain even though you had the lamest team’ - you guys weren’t lame at all, okay, you were-”

“Thank you, Daichi-san!”

“Thank you!”

“You guys are amazing, you got messages from Nekoma? Daichi, look at the message Yakkun sent, it’s so kind and reassuring -”

“Ugh, look at what Kuroo sent - ‘Yo, captain crow, I bet you’re pretty relieved to be leaving your team to the next guy, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll do our best to beat you next year as well - Yamamoto doesn’t intend to let the team slack off. Oh, and he says hi to you manager-san.’ That guy, honestly -”

“We’ll beat Nekoma in your memory, captain!”

“Ah, so this is why you guys wanted to take a group photo that day? Woah, Kageyama, you’re actually smiling normally-”

“My god, you guys, these captions . . . ‘Even if you’re the shortest third year on the team, you always stand tall in our hearts, Suga-san.’ Come on, h-how sappy can you get . . . “

There were a few uncertain tears mixed in with the laughter, after that, and voices grew quieter and more unsteady. Daichi-san was the first to make an attempt at some kind of distraction.

“Look, there’s one from the match against Shiratorizawa - will you _look_ at that spike -”

Asahi followed suit, then -

“Hey, isn’t this from when we were second years? And this is from when we were first years! Do you have the same pictures, Shimizu?”

“Yes, my hair was longer back then . . .”

“And this is from that match against Dateko, last year . . .”

\- and it seemed to work.

“Damn, Suga, you look like a model in this one -”

“Oh, stop. What about you in this one, mister bright eyes and long stylish hair -”

“Senpai, senpai, look at the next page! We each got one page to write messages, and on the last one everything was anonymy - anon-”

“Anonymous, dumbass.”

“Yeah, that, so we could say anything without worrying about being hit on the head!”

“Ahh, Hinata, I don’t think those should be read aloud right now-”

“It’s fine, Yamaguchi, we won’t get mad - or ask who wrote what. Let’s see - ‘Daichi-san, like this book has said repeatedly, you were an amazing captain - but more than that, you were a good friend to us all. We always felt like we could confide in you, and I know many of us did, and you never failed to help us out. Thank you for - for the faith and confidence you had in us - and in me.’ ”

Daichi-san’s voice was suddenly much quieter, and Chikara saw his throat working as he struggled to continue. “ ‘I can only h-hope that, years from now, we will - still keep in contact, because - because keeping someone like you in my life is well w-worth listening jealously while . . . every other girl I know giggles . . . over your . . .’ ”

Suga-san hooted softly, grinning. “Finish the sentence, Daichi!”

Daichi-san shook his head, his face bright red. “No.”

There was an instant outcry; Daichi-san shook his head furiously, repeatedly, yelling as the book was dragged away from him.

“ ‘Giggles over your strong thighs!’ ” Suga-san shouted triumphantly.  “Oh my god, I didn’t know that was a thing! Did you, Shimizu?”

Chikara had to choke back a laugh at how intensely embarrassed Daichi-san looked. Shimizu-san shook her head slightly, struggling not to smile. “I’d never heard of it, but I don’t keep track of most of the gossip, so -”

“Thank you, whoever wrote that, it means a lot!” Daichi-san said loudly, over the catcalls of his juniors. “Asahi! You read one, please.”

“A-ah, right. Uh . . . ‘Asahi-san, I honestly aspire to be a bit more like you . . . despite our outward differences, I do think we are more similar than we appear, and I - I found a reflection of my own insecurities in yours - though you handled them better than I did, I think. You showed me, by your own example, how - how not to be a coward, though I don’t think you knew it, and . . . and I thank you for it. I wish you all the best for the future, and I very much hope to keep in touch.”

The murmur subsided as Asahi raised his head, eyes red rimmed, smile bright and wavering. “Thank you, whoever that was. I’m - I’m really touched.”

Chikara caught a glimpse of Tsukishima fidgeting where he sat, cheeks faintly flushed, and couldn’t help smiling to himself.

Suga-san slipped a comforting arm about Asahi-san’s shoulder. “Me next! Let’s see . . . ‘Suga-san, thank you for telling no one what you saw on my computer. Thank you for sneaking out with me, at training camp, to make sure I wouldn’t get caught. Thank you for advising me instead of laughing when I found that letter in my shoe locker on Valentine’s. Thank you also for comforting me instead of laughing when you found out how much I hate scary movies. And thank you - just for believing in me when - w-when I felt like no one else did. I’d say I - I love you like a brother, but I think brothers fight too much for that to be true, so I’ll just - I’ll just stick with - I love you. Uh, but no homo.’ “

There was a burst of chuckles, which died down a little as Suga-san laughed through the slow tears slipping down his face. “My goodness . . . _thank_ you. I know who you are, and thank you so much, I can’t -” He sniffed, dragging his sleeve across his face, and Chikara stared at the floor, praying that no one would notice how red his ears were.

“Okay. Okay.” Suga-san took a deep breath. “Shimizu, what about you?”

Shimizu-san scanned the page. “Mmm . . .‘In this world of coarse and unrefined males, you were a breath of the purest air, a draught of -’ Right . . . I don’t think I’ll finish that.”

There was a shout of laughter, a spike in the pulse of the saturated air.

(Saturated with what, exactly, Chikara couldn’t quite place, but there was tearfulness and cheerfulness and longing and sorrow and a bright, brittle tension, and it all seemed to amount to a kind of painfully pleasant tightness in his throat that refused to vanish entirely, no matter how much he swallowed -)

“Well, I guess we all know who wrote that. Come on, Shimizu, at least read the end of it out loud. It can’t be that bad!”

She sighed. “ ‘Thank you for gracing our measly club with your - your angelic presence, and for all your hard work and passion in three years as manager. We’ll miss you more than anything, and will worship the ground you have walked on forever more.’ ”

Another spike of laughter as Noya and Tanaka tried to stifle their loud sniffles, and Shimizu sighed, relented, patted both their heads lightly. They glowed red, but they managed to return her smile as they wiped their tears away.

(He would’ve given anything to have a camera in his hand, to be able to capture this atmosphere, or at least to try - but he didn’t, so he had to rely on his memory, which was, as always, far too unreliable. But he was here, with all of them, and for the moment -

\- it was enough.)

Daichi-san sat straight, hands folded perfectly in his lap atop his book; and the other three moved to sit the same way, as though it had been a predetermined signal.

“Thank you,” he said, voice gravelly. “All I can say is - I can only hope that you, all of you, will be fortunate enough to have kohai as good - as good and kind and wonderful as ours. Thank you very much!”

He bowed from the waist, as they all did. There were a few tears pooling in Chikara’s eyes now, but he managed to pull himself together enough to straighten his spine and say, “Karasuno! Bow!”

And all ten of them bowed in return, shouting in unison-.

“Thank you very much!”

The formality lasted all of five seconds before Hinata  and Yamaguchi - of all people - launched themselves forward (in Hinata’s case with a loud howl) and hugged as much of all the third years as they could reach. And that, of course, ended up turning into a huge, squirming mess of limbs and laughter and tears, which lasted for quite a while.

And Chikara sniffled quietly with them all as the shadows lengthened in the gym, and tried to look forward to the future as the past nodded in farewell -

\- homemade scrapbooks in hand, and warm, wavering smiles in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: #sorrynotsorry
> 
> The ‘fixed mop’ is the mop that Asahi stepped on when he fought with Noya in the gym. It’s a reference to a scene (part of one of the movies) where they fix it together.  
> Also seriously, how did Daichi’s thighs become a thing? I’m not complaining, but . . . ah well, just threw it in there.  
> Reviews are (almost) more welcome than Hinata’s hugs!
> 
> Omake for this chapter is posted on [my secondary blog](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yaelaswritingspace). Hit me up on Tumblr, I'd love to chat!


	7. Think Of Me Before You Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryuunosuke hadn’t realised a lot of things that night.
> 
> He hadn’t realised how late he’d stayed back practising.
> 
> He hadn’t realised what might lurk in the shadowy streets, just a few streets away from school.
> 
> And he hadn’t realised that sometimes, tears hurt far worse than a broken nose.
> 
> In which there appear bruised knuckles, police sirens and a furious Sugawara Koushi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the POV of that brave and adorable sweetheart, Tanaka Ryuunosuke. Hope you like!  
> (The stories will probably be set chronologically from here on out.)

 

Ryuunosuke wiped his forehead and rested his hands on his knees, panting, trying to ignore the dull ache twanging through his arms.

_ Not good enough yet, not anywhere near good enough. _

“Tanaka-senpai?” Yachi asked hesitantly, placing a few balls in the ball cart. “Would you like to stop?”

He looked up, giving her a grin. “No way! I’ve still got a long way to go.”

“It’s just, it’s getting kind of late . . .”

_ Oh, damn.  _ “Ah, I’m sorry. You must be wantin’ to get home, right?”

“Oh, no, no! It’s not that! You’ve just been practicing jump serves for almost forty minutes straight now, and you look really tired.”

“I can still go for a while longer.” He stood up straight, taking a deep breath.

“Um, I don’t want to - say anything I shouldn’t, but . . . it won’t help the team if you push yourself too hard, Tanaka-senpai. I get that you’re, um, trying to be a good replacement for Asahi-san? And we don’t know how good the first years will be this year, either. But you should take time out to let your body recover, too. The new vice-captain has to be in good shape if he wants to lead, right?”

The door that had been ajar slid open wider,  allowing a curling gust of chilly air to carry a warm voice into the room . “That sounds like it makes sense.”

Ryuunosuke grinned, wide and surprised, as Suga-san stepped inside. “Suga-san! It’s good to see you! How come you’re here?”

“Hi, Suga-san!”

“Hey, Yacchan, Tanaka. I had to pick up some certificates and letters and stuff from school, so I thought I might as well look in on practice. But - did you guys finish early today?”

“Nah, it’s holidays right now, so we start and end earlier than before. Still longer practices than usual, though.”

“And you’re practicing even later?”

Ryuunosuke met his mild gaze squarely. “I need my jump serve to be a lot better than it is, Suga-san. I don’ want the team to struggle or be left weaker by Asahi-san’s absence. He trusted me to-”

Suga-san smiled, digging his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Asahi would be the first person to tell you to take a breather. From what Ennoshita’s been telling me, you’ve been pushing harder than anyone else, even though the last day of the school year was barely two weeks ago. You can afford to take your time a bit, especially since you’re a valuable attacker already - not like Hinata, who needed to build his skills up almost from scratch when he came here.”

“I just don’ want to let down -”

“You won’t, Tanaka. You definitely won’t. Don’t fret about this.You have most of April and the whole of May to get ready, yeah? Don’t spend all of it wearing yourself out. Let yourself eat dinner with your sister at night. ”

Ryuunosuke sighed, rubbing one hand over his head. “Right. I get it, Suga-san.” He grinned suddenly. “You’re not even at school anymore and you’re still taking care of the team, huh?”

Suga-san waved a dismissive hand, looking faintly pink. “Don’t be silly.”

Ryuunosuke let it go, and turned instead to Yachi. “I’m really sorry for keeping you back. I’ll just - just lemme do ten more serves, okay?”

She smiled brightly, pen poised over her notebook. “Sure, Tanaka-senpai! It’s not a problem!”

_ Okay. Ten more serves, let me make them count . . . _

Well, he managed to get the bottle with seven serves out of ten, so he supposed it wasn’t a complete waste. He sighed and stepped to the side, picking up a much-needed bottle of water and drinking deeply.

His eyes drifted to Yachi when he lowered it, and he watched her wheel the volleyballs away absently, gripping the bottle with both hands.

“I want to have Oikawa’s precision and power, when I serve,” he said abruptly. “Is that stupid, Suga-san?”

“Of course not. Oikawa wasn’t anything special, in terms of athleticism. Dedicated practice got him where he was, and it’ll get you there, too. Just  _ not _ -” Suga-san fixed him with a calm eye. “- overpractice. Okay? Oikawa had Iwaizumi to look after him, and I know Ennoshita and Noya and everyone will take care of you too, but - just don’t worry us, okay? Not too many late practices like this one.”

Ryuunosuke smiled, bowing his head slightly. “Got it. I’ll, uh, help Yacchan out and get changed as quick as I can so you don’t have to wait -”

“It’s fine, I don’t really have anywhere to be . . .” Suga-san gave the volleyballs a vaguely wistful look as they were wheeled out of sight, then shook himself. “I’ll help you take the net down.”

“Really? Thanks!”

They had the gym clean and locked up within ten minutes. Ryuunosuke slung his bag over his shoulder as he stepped outside, tucking his jacket closer around him and trying to suppress a shiver.

“Man, it’s  _ sakura  _ season but it’s still so cold. . .”

“My mom says it’ll make the cherries go sour,” Yachi chirped, zipping up her own jacket.

“Are you going to watch the flowers with her?” Suga-san asked.

“Ah, no . . . she’s pretty busy most of the time, so . . .”

Ryuunosuke  glanced down at her. “Come to think of it, I don’t know what your mom actually does, Yacchan.”

“Oh, she’s a graphic designer. Um, at the company my dad and her founded together, Yachi Design.”

“Oh, cool! You have a company with your name it, huh?”

Yachi giggled. “I guess, yeah . . . my mom handles everything here in Miyagi, while my dad is in China, trying to expand the company. He comes home every so often, though - when he can.”

“Ah, okay . . . hopefully he comes around this time, so you can all watch the flowers together.”

Yachi’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she shrugged slightly. “Yeah . . . what about you, Tanaka-senpai? Do you watch the flowers with Saeko-nee?”

Ryuunosuke snorted as he pushed the school gate open. “Like she’s got time for that. Anyway, she just has to turn up on her bike for all the flowers to fall off the trees, I swear, it’s so loud -”

“Don’t talk about your sister like that,” Suga-san chided him gently, closing the gate behind them.

Ryuunosuke made a brief face, then asked, “Are you goin’ to be in town for a bit, Suga-san? I’m pretty sure we could get up a viewin’ party if you’re still around next week.” A sudden thought struck him, and he brightened. “And if Kiyoko-san is - !”

“Kiyoko has already gone to Tokyo - she’s busy arranging her accomodation for college.I doubt she’ll be able to make it back,” Suga-san said, a twinkle in his eye. “Sorry, Tanaka. Asahi will definitely be around, though, and I think Daichi might be too. I can ask if you like.”

“That would be great, wouldn’t it, Tanaka-senpai?” Yachi exclaimed. “A chance for everyone to be together again!”

“Yeah, you could have given us our scrapbooks then. We wouldn’t have flooded the gym with tears -”

Ryuunosuke cleared his throat loudly, trying to ignore the heat in his ears. “We didn’t know how long everyone would be around after graduation.”

“Well, then why not give it at the last practice, rather than the second last one?”

“Come on, Suga-san, would you rather have spent the our last practice together goin’ through those books or playing a good match?”

Suga-san chuckled. “I can’t argue with that.”

“But yeah, a flower viewin’ party sounds good. School doesn’t start till next Wednesday, anyway . . .”

Their shadows danced under the streetlights as they talked, rippling faster when the occasional car flashed by. Yachi’s giggle rang out again and again, often accompanied by Suga-san’s light chuckle, and Ryuunosuke couldn’t help but relax and laugh with them, their high spirits filling him up and banishing his gnawing discontent as though it had never been. He’d do his best, and he’d make the team stronger. That was his goal, pure and simple, and no amount of agonizing would help achieve it. As for the fact that it was his third year, when all his classmates would be preparing for college, well . . . he’d figure something out. At the very least, he knew Nee-san would support him, whatever he chose to do.

_ Well, as long as it’s not construction work or anything like that, she’s kick my ass if it was . . . maybe I could be a mechanic or something, I’ve always been good with my hands.  _

During a lull in the conversation, when Suga-san had his face tilted up towards the night sky with a faint smile on his face, and Yachi was humming softly to herself, he said, “Suga-san, you’re taking biology in college, right?”

“Yep.”

“How’d you decide to pick that course?”

“Well, biology has always been the easiest for me out of all the three sciences, and I’ve applied to a lot of different liberal arts colleges, so hopefully I’ll be able to do various minors as well . . . I basically want to work in the field of environmental science, and getting a broad background in biology will help me with that. I could go into zoology, or ecology, things like that, or related fields if I take minors like Sustainability and Development.”

“Wow.” Ryuunosuke eyed him with a new respect. “You’ve really got your stuff planned out.”

Suga-san laughed. “Not really. I still have no clue which particular field I might pursue - the broad description of ‘environmental science’ isn’t really enough. But I’m hoping to find out where I’m meant to go in these next few years. After all, that’s what college is for, right?”

They turned the corner onto a slightly darker stretch of road, a shortcut the club had taken so often it was second nature to them.

“Well, but at least you have a broad idea. I’m still pretty much clueless, and I need to figure it out by this year.”

“Don’t you have something you can see yourself doing in the future, Tanaka-senpai?” Yachi asked, hopping over a stone on the pavement. “Something you’d like to make a career out of doing?”

Later, that was what Ryuunosuke would remember about that moment - pale yellow-white light reflected in Yachi’s eyes, a sweet smile hovering at the corner of her mouth, on the edge of his vision as he turned to look at her, and a brief burst of the chilly breeze tossing the ends of her hair across her cheek.

Then there were pounding footsteps, growing far too loud far too fast - followed by a blur of motion, a brief, rough shove hitting his side, a glimpse of a cap pulled low and a high collar -

\- and then he was stumbling from the impact, trying to get his balance back, and he saw that Yachi was on one knee, having being pushed into Suga-san. He was trying to push back, to keep her up, to stop them both from being toppled over.

It all happened so quickly, in a split second.

The next second, as he regained his footing, he was able to take in her expression. It was exactly the opposite of what it had been before - now there was shock in the clench of her fingers in Suga-san’s jacket, blankness in the part of her lips, and a growing dismay in her eyes as she reached one hand helplessly after the sprinting person.

And Ryuunosuke saw that her bag was missing.

His heart suddenly seemed to clench tight in his chest. This wasn’t Hinata being nervous around bigger players, or Kageyama’s old teammates badmouthing him, or other boys sneaking glances at Kiyoko-san - nothing he had stood up to before. Nothing his sharp grin or loud, threatening remarks could fix. This was - a crime _. _

A  _ theft _ .

He dropped his own bag and went from a standing start to a full sprint in three seconds.

He heard Yachi cry out “Tanaka-senpai!” from behind him, but he didn’t waste his breath trying to answer.

_ Suga-san will take care of her. Right now, I need to catch that person and get her stuff back - _

Whoever it was had been fast while actually snatching the bag, and they kept up a decent speed for two entire lengths of road, but Ryuunosuke had been doing three hundred meter sprints and longer runs regularly for more than two years, and he was able to push himself even further when he saw that the other person was beginning to flag. 

His chest burning, his breath coming in heaving gasps, he launched himself forward. There was a muffled yelp as they both were borne down, and the other person thudded into the pavement heavily.

Ryuunosuke struggled to pull himself up and forward so he could get a decent grip and pin the thief down with his full weight, but they were struggling like a hooked fish, and it wasn’t easy to hold them down. He grunted, the air rushing out of him as a foot sank into his stomach.

“Oh no, you don’t-”

He hung on tight and yanked as hard as he could. They slid back an inch or two, and he quickly pushed himself up and hurled himself forward once more, this time landing squarely on their back. He heard a definite groan, and smiled grimly, struggling to pin down their arms in the dark. There was a quiet snarl, and suddenly an elbow smashed into his face.

Pain exploded all through his nose, clawing into his forehead and cheeks, and all he could taste was the copper-salt of blood. His grip slackened, and the thief twisted frantically under him, trying to dislodge him. They kicked out, catching him the chest this time.

That was enough to let them struggle into a sitting position, but Ryuunosuke was sure as hell not letting them get any farther, especially with pain blooming in his torso and face like a twisted, insidious weed. He managed to get hold of their collar, drew his fist back, and punched into the scarf wrapped around the bottom of their face as hard as he could.

There was a quiet grunt, and the struggling decreased noticeably. Ryuunosuke gritted his teeth and punched again, and then once in the stomach for good measure. The thief groaned, much louder this time, and tried to double over. Ryuunosuke yanked the bag out of their hands.

“Thad - belongs to -  _ my _ friend - you asshole,” he panted. He tossed the bag a little to the side, shoved the thief back, quickly tucking their hands under their body, and sat firmly on their chest.

“Quid squirming,” he growled, gingerly trying to staunch his nosebleed with one hand. “This wouldn’d haf happened if you hadn’d decided to be a goddamn purse snatcher, okay? Stop -  _ no _ -”

“Tanaka-senpai!” 

“Tanaka!”

He glanced up briefly, catching a glimpse of Suga-san and Yachi hurrying towards him before the thief bucked under him, legs scrabbling for purchase on the pavement. He sank an elbow into their stomach, trying not to be too rough, and they gasped in pain. 

“ _ Stop _ struggling. You aren’d going anywhere,” he growled.

“Are you okay?!” Yachi gasped, coming to a stop barely two feet away.

_ She’s too close, it’s not safe - _

“ ‘M fine, ‘s fine. Don’ ged doo close, Yacchan -”

“You’re  _ bleeding _ !”

Ryuunosuke saw that her face was chalk white, eyes wide with horror as Suga-san gently pulled her back a step or two, and felt a heavy twinge of regret deep in his chest.

_ Shouldn’t have hit this person in front of her, damn it . . . but if they’d gotten away . . . _

“I called the police,” Suga-san said, calm tone in direct contrast to the worried lines around his mouth as his eyes flickered across Ryuunosuke’s face and the groaning person he was sitting on. “They should be here soon.”

“You did?” Ryuunosuke wiped his sleeve across his face, suppressing a wince as he grinned. “What if they’d godden away? P’lice would’ve come all th’ way for no reason.”

Suga-san grinned back, the lines easing somewhat. “Like you’d’ve let them get away.”

“ ‘M touched, Suga-san.” Ryuunosuke nodded to Yachi’s bag. “Got your bag, Yacchan. Don’t think this guy would’ve had time to take anything out, bud you should check jus’ in case.”

She gazed at him fearfully for one long moment, not looking reassured at all by his matter-of-fact tone. But she did go to her bag, kneeling down and rifling through it quickly.

“No, I - I don’t think anything’s missing . . .”

When she stood it was with something white clutched in her hand. Ryuunosuke narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was. A handkerchief or something? A hand towel? Was she going to cry? Damn, now he really did feel guilty about hitting the thief while she was watching. Boys didn’t fight in front of girls, come on, that was an elementary thing, wasn’t it, and he’d -

“Get off me,” the thief grunted from under him. It sounded like a guy, and a pretty young one at that.

Ryuunosuke scowled down at him, trying to tamp down a surge of anger. “Right, you dry to sdeal from my friend and you think I’ll just led you go, you asshole? You’re nod going anywhere until the police get here and dake you straight to jail.”

“No - get  _ off _ -”

_ Damn it, he’s managed to get a hand free! _

Ryuunosuke turned as fast as he could, catching the guy’s hand in his own and pressing a heavy knee to his chest, trying to ignore the wave of dizziness that swept over him.

“Sdop it!” he snarled. “You’re nod going  _ anywhere _ !”

“Let go!”

“Shud up and sdop moving or I’ll punch you again!”

“Need help, Tanaka?” Suga-san was shrugging his jacket off and rolling his sleeves up, glaring at the thief.

“I -” He wanted to say no, but . . . his head was really pounding, his nose felt like it was on fire, and if he actually did throw another punch he thought he might dislocate knuckles that were already bruised.

“Yeah, Suga-san. Just - just, uh, help me hold him down.”

“Suga-san.” Ryuunosuke’s eyes went to Yachi, who was looking pale but determined, twisting the hand towel in her hands. “Would you be able to - to hold that guy down on your own for a few minutes?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” Suga-san gave her a confused look. “I mean, yes, I can.”

Ryuunosuke frowned. “Why does he need to do id alone? ‘M right here to-”

Yachi interrupted him. “Then - then could you do that? Tanaka-senpai, please come and sit over here.”

“I - whad?”

She met his gaze seriously, without wavering. “Please.”

Ryuunosuke glanced at Suga-san, perplexed, but he only shrugged and nodded towards Yachi. “Go on then, I’ve got him.”

“If you’re sure . . .” Ryuunosuke carefully got off as Suga-san took over, ready to move back at the slightest hint of a struggle. But the switch went smoothly enough - some of the fight seemed to have gone out of the guy after Suga-san had offered his help. His eyes were wide with anxiety now, and he avoided Suga-san’s stern gaze as he leaned his weight on him.

“Tanaka-senpai.”

Ryuunosuke tore his gaze away, and went to sit next to her on the edge of the pavement. He suddenly felt a sharp twinge of guilt at how drawn - how  _ frightened _ she looked. Her hands were trembling around the towel as she took in his face. God, he must look horrible, bloody knuckles and a bloody nose, hardly able to speak properly.

He dropped his gaze, trying to wipe some of the blood away as unobtrusively as he could. “I’m, uh . . . I’m really sorry you had to see that -”

“You’re - you’re spreading it around even more, senpai.”

He looked back up blankly. “Huh?”

She was pouring some water onto the cloth, and she smiled wanly as she screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “The blood. You’re getting it everywhere. Can - can I -?”

She held the towel up.

“Uh - uh, yeah, sure. I mean, you don’t have to -”

But she was already dabbing at his face gently, carefully wiping around his nose so that she wouldn’t touch a painful spot. His brows drew together into a slight frown as he took in the expression of concentration on her face, trying to figure out what was going on. Only a moment ago she had looked terrified, horrified, and now her mouth was set and her eyes fierce and focused.

In the background, the thief grunted again, feet thumping against the pavement, but there was the soft thump of flesh impacting cloth and suddenly silence returned. Ryuunosuke didn't dare look around to see what had happened, in case Yachi did as well.

But she didn’t seem to have heard. “Um, I think you should lean forward a little, so the blood doesn’t go down your throat . . . Sorry, am I hurting you?”

“Huh? No, no you’re not.”

She looked dissatisfied anyway, the corners of her mouth turning down with worry and frustration as she turned to pour more water onto the cloth and wring it out.

“Learned first aid, oh yeah, in case of all kinds of accidents,” she muttered fretfully herself, beginning to ply the cloth again. “How to Heimlich and - and do chest compressions and all kinds of stuff, every single thing except something simple like set a broken nose! Useless, what are the - the chances of someone getting a heart attack compared to someone getting hit in the nose? But oh, no, I had to prepare for the worst possible scenario -”

Ryuunosuke blinked, feeling oddly unbalanced. “Yacchan?”

She took a short, sharp breath, glaring at the cloth in her hand. “Yeah, Tanaka-senpai?”

“Are you okay?”

She looked at him in blank disbelief, lowering the cloth. “A-am I okay? Am  _ I  _ okay? Senpai, if you could see yourself right now - “

“Yeah, but you - you looked really scared a while ago. I’m sorry you had to see me fighdin’ that guy, I just -”

“You think  _ that’s _ why I was scared?”

He blinked again. “W-wasn’d id? I mean, when Hinata and Kageyama fought-”

“W-when Hinata and Kageyama fought I was scared because two of my friends were so angry and hurt that they - they were hurting each other and I couldn’t stop them! And right now I was terrified because you went rushing off after some - some criminal on the road just to get my b-bag back when I just had my uniform and some books and a few hundred yen in it! What if he’d been stronger than you, or had a k-knife, Tanaka-senpai? What if he’d had a gun? Or more people waiting for him who could have hurt you really badly? What if  _ they’d _ had weapons, and Suga-san and I hadn’t found you until it was t-too late?!  _  Anything _ could have happened to you, and I would have to live with the knowledge that you did it for me, to g-get my things back, when they’re just  _ things _ . They’re in no way worth you getting seriously injured - what if you wouldn’t be able to play v-volleyball again this year? Or even ever? And you  _ did  _ get injured, look at you -”

Ryuunosuke managed to close his mouth enough to say, “But it’s not really that big of a deal, it’s just -”

“It is to me!” Yachi said, eyes burning through slowly pooling tears. “It - it is to me, okay? You got hurt, and you shouldn’t have had to. I’m just -” She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse, and I shouldn’t be yelling at you at all, I’m so sorry, just - no, I wasn’t scared because I saw you fighting. Girls aren’t incapable of fighting, or watching other people fight, Tanaka-senpai. I was scared because - because it was  _ you _ fighting.”

“Hey,” he said, feeling terribly guilty and achingly sorrowful and, above all, so sorry that sweet, cheerful Yachi had been so scared for him that she stifling sobs right now. “Hey, c’mere.”

She leaned into the offered one-armed embrace, and he patted her shoulder gently a few times.

“ ‘M sorry I scared you, Yacchan. It’s okay, though. I guess I shouldn’t’ve run off so fast, but nothin’ happened, and I promise I’ll be more careful next time, okay? Don’t cry, I don’t want to see you cry . . . makes me feel like there’s somethin’ cold and heavy in my tummy. Makes me feel  _ horrible _ .”

She laughed weakly, pulling back and wiping her face again. “Okay. As long as you  _ are _ more careful . . . there’s too many people who would be crying way worse than this if anything happened to you, Tanaka-senpai.”

He couldn’t help smiling at that, suddenly feeling warm all over, though the breeze was nipping at his ears. “I’ll remember, I swear.”

She smiled in return, then quickly ducked her head, dabbing at his bruised knuckles with the splotched cloth. “Your voice sounds a bit better, but - are you really sure you’re - you’re okay? Doesn’t it hurt?”

Ryuunosuke opened his mouth to say ‘No, of course not, I’m totally fine’ _ - _

_ \- Wide brown eyes, hurt and frightened and burning, and a trembling mouth - ‘You got hurt, and you shouldn’t have had to -’  _

He stared down at the back of her head, blonde hair gleaming dully in the streetlights.

‘It does hurt,” he said slowly. “It does. But yeah, I’ll be okay, Yacchan.”

Yachi glanced up at him briefly, and as her lips quirked up shyly he was unutterably relieved to see that her eyes weren’t burning anymore.

“Guys,” Suga-san said quietly. “Police are almost here.”

He was right. Ryuunosuke could hear the faint wail of the siren, and when he looked up he could see pale red and blue light dappling across the walls of the houses a few streets down.

The thief began to struggle again at that, and Suga-san had to clutch at the ground to regain his balance.

“Get off - get  _ off _ \- please, come on -”

“Stop it,” Suga-san snapped, sounding far more stern than Ryuunosuke had ever heard before. “You brought this on yourself.”

“I - I -”

“And this is hardly the first time you’ve done something like this, is it?”

Ryuunosuke looked up sharply at that, as did Yachi. “Suga-san, do you know this guy?”

Suga-san glared at the thief, knuckles whitening. “Yeah, I recognized him a couple of minutes ago. He was at Karasuno. Repeated both his second year and third year. First time he did third year he was a year above me; the second time he transferred out, or rather, he got expelled and went to a different school, one full of rats like him. You don’t remember Oda from class two, Tanaka? Everyone called him the Delinquent. He wore the name like a badge, spray painted it across walls wherever he did anything.”

Ryuunosuke’s eyes went wide. “Wait,  _ the _ \- like, the guy who was running a drug distribution system across five schools? The guy who threatened the dean with a baseball bat when he got expelled? I punched  _ the Delinquent _ in the  _ face _ ?”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that.” Suga-san’s gaze bored into Oda’s eyes. “I heard you got too cocky, cut into some turf that wasn’t yours and they beat you up pretty badly. Kicked all the fight out of you and took everything, made you turn to clumsy pickpocketing and petty theft. No offence, Tanaka, but if my kohai could beat you so easily that means you must be in worse shape than I thought, huh, Oda?”

“Sugawara, let me go, come on, you know me -” Oda gasped, the words muffled by the scarf around his mouth. The sirens were almost upon them, now, and Ryuunosuke could see bright headlights as the car turned onto their road.

Suga-san pressed his knee down harder, making Oda wince. “Yeah, I do. I heard every dangerous rumour about you, and I never heard any good ones. And I also know that it was you who spread it around that Asahi was helping you out with your shit. No one talked to him outside of club for a whole month, not even teachers. Did you know that? No, you wouldn’t care, would you?

“Just for doing that to him, I would turn you over without a second thought. But you tried to steal from Yachi-san, and you don’t deserve an  _ inch _ of slack. You’re getting  _ everything  _ that’s coming to you.”

The police car came to a halt beside them, making them all squint in the sudden light. Two officers stepped out, slamming the doors.

“Sugawara Koushi?” a commanding voice said. “You called about a purse snatcher?”

“I did, yes. This is him.” Suga-san looked up, calm as ever, with no trace of the fury that had simmered in his voice seconds ago.

The officer who had spoken stepped closer, sharp eyes darting over all of them. “I see,” she said. “I’m going to need all of you to come as well, to tell us what happened.”

“Of course, officer. My friend needs medical attention, though, and we need to call home to inform our parents.”

“You can call now if you have a phone, or you can call from the station, and we can have someone patch your friend up there, too. It’d be fastest.”

“Right, thank you.” Suga-san got to his feet, allowing the officers to pick Oda up, and came to stand by Yachi. “Sorry, you guys . . . we’ll be getting home a lot later than we expected.”

“It’s okay, Suga-san,” Yachi said. Her tone was quiet, and tired, but no longer shaky or frightened, and Ryuunosuke would take that any day.

“Yeah, ‘s okay. I can jus’ give Nee-san a quick call -”

“ _ I’ll _ call her,” Suga-san said firmly, rummaging in Ryuunosuke’s bag for his phone. “You’d scare her to death, I know.”

Ryuunosuke let him do it. He was right, anyway. . . he could imagine the conversation clearly -

_ ‘Hey Nee-san, so I got into a fight with a guy who tried to snatch Yacchan’s bag-” _

_ “You what?!” _

_ “And, uh, they want me to go down to the police station for a bit. My nose is kind of broken, though. I should be home by -” _

_ “Tanaka Ryuunosuke, I’m going to KICK YOUR ASS SO HARD WHEN YOU GET BACK HOME -” _

“Tanaka-senpai . . .”

He looked at her, blinking away his sister’s phantom shouts. “Yeah?”

Yachi’s hand was tight on the bag of her strap as she watched Oda being wrestled into the police car. “He  _ was _ dangerous after all.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not to me. Not tonight. I’m fine, Yacchan. Maybe if this had happened a coupla years ago I wouldn’t have been, but I am now, right? So don’t worry about what could have happened.”

“Right. Yes, I know. I’m sorry . . .”

“Don’t apologize, you got nothin’ to apologize for.”

Suga-san paused with the phone to his ear - Ryuunosuke could hear tinny ringing from the speaker - giving him a look similar to the one he had been giving Oda not five minutes ago.

“You, however, do,” he said. “I agree with Yacchan entirely. Scare me like that again, and if the criminal doesn’t kill you I will, got it?”

Ryuunosuke gulped. Suga-san could be way scarier than Daichi-san when he wanted to be. “Got it.”

“Good.” Suga-san’s gaze softened. “It was a brave thing to do, Tanaka, and I’m glad you’re okay . . . Ah, yes, is this Tanaka Saeko-san?”

Ryuunosuke exhaled heavily, looking up at the dim stars, absently rubbing his aching knuckles. Then he shook himself, and looked back down at Yachi, grinning.

“How jealous do you think Noya-san’s going to be when he hears about this?”

Yachi laughed, wavering but sweet, and Ryuunosuke’s heart swelled happily at the sound.

“Pretty jealous, yeah. He’d like to get to ride in a police car, huh?”

“You bet he would . .  .”

 

⸶⸷

 

They did end up having the  _ sakura  _ viewing party after all. Kiyoko-san managed to make it as well, and Ryuunosuke, as he told the story for the tenth time, to gasps of awe and groans of exasperation and shouts of laughter, with a splint on his nose and cherry petals dancing in the air, couldn’t help thinking,  _ I mean, it’s not a bad aftermath, and I guess if I had to do it again - _

But then he saw Yachi giggling at Yamaguchi trying to balance a bottle on his nose -

\- and remembered how she had looked then, tears streaking down her cheeks and a bloodstained towel in her hands -

\- and thought,  _ No. No, it wouldn’t be worth it. _

“Would you like another cup of tea, Tanaka?” a soft voice asked, and he looked around right into Kiyoko-san’s gorgeous eyes.

He managed to stammer out an affirmative, blushing to the roots of his hair, and it didn’t help that she was smiling slightly as she poured the tea out.

On the other side of the picnic blanket, Noya-san muttered dark threats, ignoring Daichi-san’s attempts to pacify him.

And Tanaka grinned as he accepted the cup from Kiyoko-san.

_ Not a bad aftermath at all. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was the summary too scary? ^.^
> 
> I have absolutely no clue how fast you can get to a sprint from a standing start. I just picked a number that seemed likely. If you’re athletic and you know, please tell me.
> 
> I also don’t know what cold air does to cherries, but I assumed it wouldn’t be good. If that was a mistake, inform me about that too, please.
> 
> ALSO. That very annoying trope that exists for god knows what reason in anime, even a great one like Haikyuu!!. I’m sorry, does this look like an Enid Blyton story to you? Girls can fight, they do not faint at the sight of blood (do you see females dropping like flies once every month? No? Well, isn’t that a puzzle?), and they do not need their delicate eyes to be shielded from any semblance of violence.  
> ‘Boys shouldn’t fight in front of girls.’ Hmph. Honestly. I love you, Tanaka, but please don’t say that again.
> 
> Are Suga’s ambitions a reflection of mine? Yes, yes indeed.
> 
> If you wanted to squeeze Yachi tight and never let her go at any point during this chapter, please leave a word or two!


	8. To Volley Or Not To Volley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That is the question. Karasuno's volleyball club is exciting and engaging and amazing, as we all know. But how impressive does it truly look to uncertain young students, just joining a new school, when it hardly stands out at the club event? Will Ennoshita and the gang manage to convince young Akiyama and his new friends to join Karasuno's volleyball club? Will they gain promising new members, or reluctant ones?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Long author's note alert)  
> Man, okay, this took a while to finish. Right! So we have more OC's. Now it's the four new first years we met so briefly in chapter one. This is to introduce them, and also explore how an outsider would see the Karasuno volleyball club.  
> When I wrote this I didn't know if this kind of club event takes place before or afte high school admissions, but I remebered seeing a scene in an anime where students at this kind of event were all wearing different uniforms, so I went with the former. After I posted, though, I noticed in episode 1 of the anime that people are recruitng for clubs on the first day of school. Nyghh. I also did say I would go back and fix it if turned out to be that my assumption was wrong, but . . . my laziness kicked in. So kindly assume that the year after the first years joined Karasuno decided to hold a larger club event before admissions to attract more students. Cool? Cool.  
>   
> Also my apologies to manga readers but I don't know what happens after Shiratorizawa so none of the Tokyo Nationals events are mentioned or will be mentioned. (Should have said this before chapter 5, sorry)  
> AND I USED THE WORD CACOPHONY IN THIS CHAPTER. *Writer goals achieved* :)

 

 

Hey, come and check out the drama club! We put on productions every -"

"- interested in any kind of art, drawing, sculpting, painting, the art club is the place for you-"

" - like a pamphlet for the robotics club? We compete in semiannual tournaments, and -"

" - interested in the kendo club. Whether you're a newbie or a veteran, there's a place for everyone -"

" - the boys' soccer team! We're invited to all the major sporting events in the prefecture -"

Hiroshi hunched his shoulders as he shouldered through the mass of chattering people, trying to look inconspicuous rather than intensely uncomfortable at the cacophony assailing his ears. If he'd known the club event would be so crowded he would have skipped it altogether and resigned himself to finding out about the clubs when school actually started, instead of spending his morning trying not to get nabbed by enthusiastic club members waving loudspeakers.

' _Go and check the school out', she said,_ he thought irritatedly, maneuvering around a knot of girls wearing the same uniform. ' _Find a club you might like to join. You're most likely to get into Karasuno, so why don't you go and get a head start, make some new friends', oh sure. Like it's even possible to hold a conversation in the middle of this noise._

He squeezed past two boys holding a conversation with a lot of wild gesturing, and flinched as his eyes happened to meet those of a member of the - he gave the desk a quick glance - the film club.

_Oh please don't-_

"You there! Yeah, you! You look like you'd be interested in filmmaking! Why don't you check out -"

_Damn._

Hiroshi managed to shake the friendly hand off with a quick mumble of "No, no thanks," and hastily ducked around the corner of the building, out of the flowing crowd.

 _Well, I'm checking the school out, okaasan, and it's_ loud.  _and that seems to be about everything noteworthy about it. So much for new friends . . ._

He sighed quietly and leaned against the wall, leafing through the pamphlets he had somehow accumulated. Photography, chess, judo, music . . . Chess actually didn't look too bad. He could probably get away with attending one meeting a month, even (because who's ever regular to chess club?). Moving pieces on a board and losing gracefully were talents he had and could easily hone, and it wouldn't interfere much with his studies either. It was the safe option.

He frowned, absently scanning the wonky print of the dance club's small pamphlet. He'd actually wanted to join some kind of athletic club, so that he wouldn't have to worrying about setting up a fitness routine off his own and sticking to it (he was pretty sure that Miyagi's hearty food was already beginning to tell on him). There were five sports clubs for boys, and he seemed to have pamphlets for all but one of them - the one he had actually been inclined to join, provided they didn't seem too intense . . . Would it be worth plunging back into the crowd to look for a desk they might have set up?

He glanced back at the mass of loud students, and his mouth twisted slightly in distaste. It certainly didn't look like it -

"Hiro? Hey, Hiro! It's you, isn't it? Over here!"

Hiroshi turned, surprised, and saw two boys making their way towards him. The one in the lead, who was waving eagerly as he hurried towards him, was of average height and had rather fluffy brown hair just long enough to keep falling into his bright, dark eyes. The other was noticeably taller, sporting an undercut, red half-rimmed glasses, a small ring in one ear, and a few electric blue streaks in his mop of black hair. He was lanky, but he had a careless grace.

Hiroshi looked back at the first boy, eyes narrowed. He might be mistaken - possibly, but he thought it was - it was, wasn't it?

"Kohei . . . ? Serizawa Kohei?"

"You remember!" Kohei shouted excitedly, pulling him into a quick hug and pounding him gently on the back. "Yeah, it's me! Wow, I can't believe this - I didn't think I'd see you here! Man, it's so lucky we decided to check out Karasuno today! Are you back now? Like  _back_ back?"

Hiroshi couldn't help smiling as he brushed a strand of choppy black hair behind one ear. "It's good to see you too. Yeah, we moved back a week or two ago."

"That's awesome! But how come you came back from Tokyo after just three years? You need to tell me all about it, I -"

The other boy cleared his throat quietly. Kohei cut himself off at once, smiling in quick apology.

"Ah, sorry, Tatsuya-kun! Hiroshi, this is Suzuki Tatsuya. We were at junior high together, and in the same class for two years. Tatsuya-kun, this is Akiyama Hiroshi, we've been friends since - what, elementary?"

"Before that, I'd say," Hiroshi replied, nodding to Suzuki. "Nice to meet you, Suzuki-san."

Suzuki nodded back, glasses gleaming in the early spring sunlight. "Nice to meet you too, Akiyama-san. WIll you be attending Karasuno next year?"

"I wrote the exam, and my grades are good enough . . . but I applied to Dateko and Aoba Johsai as well, so I might go to either one, if I get in."

Suzuki raised an eyebrow slightly. "Ah, I see. Lucky. I was forced practically at knifepoint to apply to no less than nine." He sighed. "Writing exam after exam was  _not_  now I planned on spending my break."

Kohei laughed. "And when you get into all of them with your perfect grades you'll be stuck not knowing which to choose!"

"Don't exaggerate, Kohei-kun," Suzuki said mildly.

Hiroshi smiled a little. "And what about you, Kohei?"

"Ah, I applied to Karasuno, Dateko, Asuka and Kiyose. Aoba Johsai's a pretty intense school, so I didn't even try. Let's see where I get accepted . . . Oh hey, how's your family? How's Kao-chan?"

Despite himself, Hiroshi's smile grew wider. That was Kohei all over - quick and cheery and jumping from one topic to another like a hyperactive rabbit. It was almost like he'd never left.

"Kaoru's good. He's at a school he really likes in Tokyo, a pretty inclusive one, so he and my dad are staying there for this year. It, uh - " Hiroshi darted a quick glance at Suzuki, who was listening with an air of polite interest. "It'll help prepare him for, you know. Mainstream school. He'll be moving here next year."

"Oh, okay, that's cool -"

"I'm sorry, who are we talking about?"

"Oh, Hiro's younger brother, Kaoru! He's a year younger."

Hiroshi held his breath, then relaxed when Kohei said nothing more.

_Kohei, you're the best._

Suzuki gave Hiroshi a brief, curious glance, but accepted the answer without a blink.

_A tactful guy, huh . . ._

"I see. So, Akiyama-san, did you attend any other club events like this one at the other schools you applied to?"

_And adroit at changing the topic of conversation, too._

Hiroshi had a feeling he was going to like Suzuki Tatsuya.

The three of them stood talking for some time, about the different clubs they'd seen and how insistent most of the students running the desks were.

"I think the only club members who didn't actually try to drag me away were from the volleyball team," Kohei said, grinning. "They just smiled when we walked by, right, Tatsuya-kun?"

Hiroshi looked at him interestedly. "The boys' team?"

"Yeah! You still play, Hiro?"

"I keep in practice, yeah. They didn't have a club in junior high, though, so I ended up in the soccer club. I still prefer volleyball, but I pretty much just practised with Kaoru, and the neighbourhood club sometimes."

Suzuki looked interested as well. "What position do you play, Akiyama-san?"

"Wing spiker. You play too?"

"Yes, middle blocker. That's how I met Kohei-kun for the first time, actually. We both joined the club in junior high. Are you planning to join Karasuno's club if you attend Karasuno?"

Kohei's eyes lit up. "Oh, please say yes! Tatsuya-kun and I were thinking of doing that too! We'd be such a good team, Hiro! It'd be fun!"

"We haven't played together for years," Hiroshi protested hastily. "And you'd be far ahead of me, like in terms of skill, since you were in a club and I wasn't. I'm sure it wouldn't be easy to -"

"Well, but we'd learn to work together again! Come on -"

Suzuki interrupted quietly. "If you weren't planning on it in the first place, Akiyama-san, we wouldn't want to force you."

Kohei deflated a little. "Well, no, of course not. Do you really not want to?"

"Well . . . to be honest, I  _was_ thinking of checking them out. It's just that - I heard they went to Nationals last year?"

"Yeah! That's what's made them famous again."

"Right. I just thought that a club like that would be very serious. I mean, going to Nationals isn't easy .I'm sure the current members put in a lot of work to make that happen, and they'll probably be expecting that from any new members as well. It's likely to be demanding, and to be honest, I don't know if I'd be willing or able to put in the work they'll require. I enjoy volleyball, but . . ."

"Right, I get it." Kohei looked thoughtful for a moment. "Tatsuya-kun had the same concern."

Hiroshi looked at Suzuki, who shrugged slightly in response. "Like you said, I enjoy volleyball, but Nationals isn't really my goal. There's a lot of other things we'll have to deal with, as students."

"So what made you change your mind?"

"For one, I think that the club will be getting quite a few applicants after their recent achievement, and as there are only six members in a team, I'm likely to get away with being a minor reserve member, which means there won't be as much pressure. For another, my cousin is in Karasuno already, just starting his third year - two of the members are in his class - and he tells me the club has a good atmosphere now, inclusive and welcoming, not too demanding. And lastly, leaving is always an option. There's no rule that says that, if we join, we're stuck for all three years at Karasuno. My cousin used to be in the club, and he left at the beginning of last year, when the old coach's demands got too much for him. He's much happier as president of the photography club, now."

"I see . . ." Hiroshi said slowly. "That makes sense."

"Why don't we go check them out, at least?" Kohei suggested cheerfully. "No harm in doing that. We'll get an idea of what it's like, and if we don't like it - well, who knows if we're even going to end up at Karasuno."

Hiroshi gave in with a small laugh. "Okay, let's go check them out. You know where their table is? I didn't see it, though I kept an eye out."

Kohei nodded as they began to walk back into the crowd. "They got pushed to a corner somehow, so you don't see it unless you happen to walk this way . . . Ah, see? It's right there, next to the cultural history club."

A bright, neat poster hung from the front of the desk, but there were no pamphlets anywhere in sight, only a clipboard and a pen. Behind the desk sat a petite girl with short blonde hair, and a rather tall boy with a shaved head and an easygoing air. The girl's eyes lit up as they approached, and she quickly stood, beaming.

"Good morning! Are you interested in the boys' volleyball club?"

Kohei beamed back. "Yeah, we are! We were thinking we might join next year. Could you tell us a bit about, uh, the club, the members, the basic things we should know?"

"Oh, sure!" she said enthusiastically. "The club currently has nine members, since last year's class graduated. Four are first ye- I'm sorry, four are  _second_ years, and five are third years. The captain is Ennoshita Chikara. Karasuno's club has been around almost since the school started, and we used to be a powerhouse school some years ago. And now we are again! See, our team competes in two tournaments every year, the Inter-High and the Spring High, and last year, we almost got through the Inter-High qualifiers, and we actually did get through the Spring High qualifiers, beating teams from schools like Wakunan and Aoba Johsai, which has one of the top four teams in the prefecture, and -"

"Take a breath, Yacchan," the boy said, looking amused. "This is Yachi Hitoka, our manager and a second year, and I'm Narita Kazuhito, a third year. Like she said, we're a pretty strong team."

"You'd have to be, to reach Nationals," Suzuki said, smiling slightly. "Can I ask what the team specializes in? Attack strategies, defence strategies?"

Yachi jumped in at that. "Attack, definitely, and we're really versatile! Most teams we face find it hard to predict what we're going to do next, which is our strength. We have a couple of powerful wing spikers, we have a genius setter who can set up almost any attack, and we have an amazing decoy, who so fast and jumps so high it's almost like he's flying! And there are a lot of special moves we've perfected, like synchronized attacks, and libero-sets, and pipes -"

Hiroshi blinked, the terms flying over his head. Kohei's head tilted in confusion as well, and even Suzuki seemed somewhat disconcerted.

Yachi faltered, beginning to look embarrassed in the face of their incomprehension, and Narita stepped in smoothly once more.

"Since our offence is pretty polished, Ennoshita plans to focus on shoring up our defence in the time before the next tournament. Our blocking is good - many of our members are fairly tall, and we have one guy who's very good at read blocks, and 190 centimetres tall into the bargain."

Hiroshi's lips shaped themselves into a soundless whistle. 190 centimetres?

"It's our receives that need work," Narita went on. "Our libero is excellent, one of the very best, but he can't carry the entire burden by himself. Of the members who left, our previous captain was a defense specialist. We're hoping to be able to replace him, this year." He gave them all an unexpectedly keen look. "It would be great if any of you feel like you could. We haven't gotten many interested people as we would have liked."

"Really?" Suzuki asked. "I would have thought, since you're more famous now -"

Narita smiled, looking rueful. "Yes, we thought so as well, which is why we thought we wouldn't have to put as much effort into recruitment as the other clubs. But a lot of people are saying last year was a one time thing, and admittedly, with our earlier ace and captain gone, we're not going to find it easy to pull together, so I guess that might have changed people's minds . . . Besides, Karasuno has soccer, baseball, tennis and basketball clubs for boys as well, and most people end up there. Volleyball isn't as popular, I guess."

"That's a pity," Hiroshi said, speaking for the first time. "Volleyball is more fun by far."

Narita gave him a smile. "I agree, it is."

Yachi, beaming, chirped, "If you like, you can head up to the first gym - that building, right there. If you go there in about five minutes, Ennoshita-san will give you guys a brief introduction, and you can meet the team and decide if it'll be a fit for you."

"Will it be only us?" Hiroshi asked, trying not to sound uneasy. Meeting a group of strangers when they outnumbered him, Kohei and Suzuki three to one wasn't something he was looking forward to.

"Oh, no, we sent four or five people up there a few minutes ago! And if you want to look around the other clubs a bit more, it's totally fine. Ennoshita-san will be ready to give the same introduction every ten minutes, till eleven-thirty, so you have more than forty minutes to go and check the team out. "

Kohei laughed. "Really? That sounds like a show at a zoo or an amusement park or something - like 'The dolphin show will happen every half an hour!' or 'The cosplay skit takes place every fifteen minutes!' "

Yachi grinned sheepishly. "Well, we thought it made more sense to have him do that rather than try to explain the same thing over and over again to people who might turn up at clashing times. And it reassures prospective members - they can look at everything else and then go up when they're ready, without worrying about missing out."

"That's very considerate," Suzuki said, smiling a little as he glanced back at Kohei and Hiroshi. "We'll go up to the gym, then?"

They both nodded, and Suzuki nodded in return, turning back to the desk.

"Thank you for your time, Yachi-san, Narita-san."

"Thank you for your time!" Kohei said cheerfully.

"Our pleasure!" Yachi said, equally cheerfully. "We hope to see you at the club!"

"See you there," Narita said, smiling.

The three of them bowed, waving one last time, and began to walk in the direction of the gym.

"I wonder what the captain will talk about?" Suzuki murmured, almost to himself. "After what Yachi-san and Narita-san said, there's doesn't seem to be much left to say by way of an introduction."

"Right?" Kohei said, grinning. "I liked her, though. She seemed really enthusiastic about the club, and she was really nice."

"She was," Hiroshi agreed. "Hopefully the others are as nice as she is."

"Don't be so pessimistic, Hiro . . ."

"I'm not being pessimistic. Mean senpais are more common than kind ones - I'm just saying! Don't give me that look, Kohei!"

"My cousin did say the club was inclusive and supportive," Suzuki reminded them. "I'd say mean senpais wouldn't contribute to an inclusive atmosphere."

"Right." Kohei poked Hiroshi's shoulder. "Remember that, Hiro."

Hiroshi couldn't help laughing. "Yes, yes, sorry. I'm sure they'll be nice."

"I'm a little disheartened, though," Suzuki said thoughtfully. "Maybe I won't join after all."

"Hey, Tatsuya-kun, you can't ditch me like that! Come on, don't give up on it."

"Well, it seemed a bit too serious for me, the way Narita-san was describing their strategy, and the way Yachi-san was talking about different attacks. And they don't have many applicants, huh . . ."

"Well, but still! That doesn't mean you'll be a regular right from the get go, right?"

"Still . . ."

_I kind of agree, but . . ._

Hiroshi hesitated, then said, "I actually thought that since they seem to have some exceptional members already, it would take the pressure off of newcomers. They mentioned an amazing libero, a genius setter, a really fast decoy, and a really smart blocker. That's four out of six people already."

"That's true," Suzuki said, absently reaching for the gym door as he slipped his shoes off. "I guess I'll see what the team is actually like before trying to decide . . . Excuse me, can we come in?"

"Sure, come on in!" a voice called back. Hiroshi looked around curiously as he stepped in, taking in the gym. It was fairly large, and clearly well maintained. There was a stage at one end, a court marked out in clean white lines, and a high gallery that ran around the inside. The net had been hoisted into place, and a cart of volleyballs stood nearby.

An assortment of people sat on the ground in a rough circle close by the doors. They were clearly divided into two unequal groups; members of the larger group all wearing Karasuno gym uniforms, and the five members of the smaller group dressed in various junior high uniforms.

"Good morning," Kohei said, bowing politely. "We're here to check out the volleyball club."

Every eye there was turned to them, and those belonging to the team had more than a hint of curious appraisal in them. Hiroshi firmly swallowed a sudden touch of discomfort, and tried to meet their gazes with some measure of confidence. Suzuki, he noted, looked unruffled as ever, and there was nothing but open cheerfulness in Kohei's face. Not for the first time, Hiroshi wished he was as comfortable with people as Kohei had always been.

"Ah, right. Thanks for coming." A boy with dark, neatly parted hair and slightly sleepy eyes gave them a slight smile, waving them forward. "Come and sit, we haven't started yet. Did you see anyone else who might be coming too?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Kohei said, sitting down. "We were the only ones on the way to the gym."

"Right, okay. I guess we can start then."

Hiroshi settled himself on the edge of the group, to Kohei's right, giving the rest of the team a brief glance before focusing back on the first guy, who cleared his throat uncertainly.

"Um, right. I'm Ennoshita Chikara, captain of Karasuno's boys' volleyball club. If you spoke to Yachi-san and Narita before coming here, you should probably have a fair idea about the club, but I'll give you a brief explanation in case you didn't. We used to be a powerhouse school for volleyball some years ago, but things went downhill after old Coach Ukai left. We stayed in the prefecture's best eight after that, neither strong nor weak, and it was only last year that we managed to build a really strong team and make it to Nationals. We even defeated Shiratorizawa, the school that had one of the top three aces, Ushijima Wakatoshi. We plan to do the same this year as well.

"We're a versatile team, and our attacks are always flexible. We don't have a single playing style, which is what confuses our opponents and allows us to beat them. We practice for a maximum of four mornings and four evenings a week, an hour and a half each, and for half a day on Saturdays. We don't stick to that schedule during exams, of course . . . we also have summer training camps, both here in Miyagi and in Tokyo. Practice matches are as regular as possible, with as many different schools as possible, both from the prefecture and out of it. We take every match seriously, whether it's a competitive match or just practice. The official tournaments we participate in are the Inter-High in June and the Spring High in November. And, yeah, I think that's the most basic stuff you need to know . . . So, we currently have nine members."

He gestured to those sitting beside him. "Myself, Kinoshita-"

A sandy haired-boy smiled and nodded.

"- Nishinoya -"

A small boy with a lock of bleached hair flashed a peace sign.

"- Tanaka, who's also vice captain -"

A boy with a shaven head and a splint on his nose grinned sharply.

" - and Narita, whom you would have seen at our desk earlier, are third years. Narita is a middle blocker, Nishinoya is our libero, and the rest of us are wing spikers. The others are second years. Hinata -"

The short boy with the fluffy orange hair grinned and waved.

" - Kageyama -"

A boy with black hair and cool blue eyes nodded briefly.

" - Yamaguchi -"

A boy with dark hair and a generous scattering of freckles grinned like Hinata.

" - and Tsukishima."

The tallest person there, a boy with light blonde hair and a faintly sardonic expression, nodded slightly.

"They're all middle blockers, apart from Kageyama, who's our setter. Uh, so . . . are there any questions you'd like to ask? To anyone here, not just me."

There was a brief, embarrassed silence, during which everybody seemed to simultaneously avoid each other's eyes.

A boy Hiroshi didn't know raised his hand tentatively. Ennoshita nodded thankfully at him, and he said, "Uh, so is Coach Ukai coaching you now?"

"His grandson is, so yes, it is  _a_  Coach Ukai who is coaching us - just not the famous one."

"Um, is he good?"

"Oh yes, definitely. He has a great game sense, his explanations are simple and direct, he's approachable, and he really cares about the team. Even if you don't know anything about volleyball, I can honestly say that after being coached by him for a couple of months you should catch right up."

Another boy spoke up, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, I wanted to ask about that - you're known as the team that's finally starting to bring back Karasuno's name, so . . . would you be okay with members who are just starting volleyball?"

"Yes, of course!" Hinata shouted enthusiastically, forestalling Ennoshita's answer. "Right, Ennoshita-san? We'll all help you learn, it won't be a problem!"

Kageyama gave him a dispassionate glance. "Yeah, Hinata would know. When he came here he didn't even know how to receive."

"Shut up, Kageyama!" Hinata said, looking indignant. "You wanna fight, huh?"

Hiroshi blinked, surprised at the sudden bickering, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the resigned looks the other team members were giving each other.

_So this happens often, huh? It looks like Suzuki-san's cousin was right about the club having a good atmosphere, then. If it were the soccer club, they would have been booted out in seconds._

Tanaka gave them both mildly annoyed looks, catching them by their collars. "Guys, can you try not to scare off potential members? And can you let Chikara actually talk?"

They subsided with mumbles of "Right, sorry," and Ennoshita sighed a little before replying.

"To answer your question, as Hinata said, yes, we'd be glad to have you as long as you're willing to put effort in to learn. The coach is great, and you can ask any of us to help you out in any way - we'd be very willing."

"Right, okay, thank you."

The third question was, again, from someone Hiroshi didn't know. "Can I ask what positions need to be filled? Like, the members who left last year, what were their positions?"

"Two were wing spikers, and one was a setter. Of the wing spikers, one was our ace, and the other was a defense specialist. This year, though, Tanaka is going to be stepping into the role of ace - "

Tanaka's chest swelled instantly, and he grinned his sharp grin once more.

"- but we don't really have anyone good enough to take over the defense position."

"I see, okay."

Hiroshi hesitated, then raised his hand halfway. "Um, do you accept applications in the middle of the year, or only at the beginning of the year? I mean, in case we decide to join some time after school starts . . ."

"It's . . . not a situation I think we've ever faced, but yes, I don't see why we wouldn't."

"Right, okay."

_Good. So if I come to Karasuno, I can take my time to see how much work the club needs me to put it firsthand before deciding to join._

There was another silence, slightly longer, before Suzuki spoke up, calm and polite.

"Ennoshita-san, I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but everything I've heard about the club until now has only reinforced the idea that you are all very serious about competing - that you play to win. I'm sure that takes a lot of practice and dedication, and to be very honest, I'm not entirely sure if I could match everyone else in that respect. Of course, I'd like to win, but I'm considering joining the club only because I enjoy playing volleyball, nothing else. In the end, I feel that no matter how much the club achieves, no matter how much work I put in, it won't matter much because it is still, ultimately, only a high school club. So I'm not sure if I could participate wholeheartedly in the kind of relentless practice you described earlier. Would I then not be welcome here? Or would you advise me not to join?"

 _. . . Is this guy for real?_ Hiroshi couldn't help wincing slightly at Suzuki's bluntness, and quickly scanned the team members with a hint of anxiety as to their reactions.  _Well, I guess I'm going to find out how much work they require right now - if they don't get angry._

Ennoshita raised his eyebrows, the sleepy look disappearing in his surprise. There was a murmur amongst the other members, but contrary to Hiroshi's expectations, there was no hint of anger or indignation. Many of them were even smiling, and Hiroshi noted more than one glance darted at Tsukishima, who was frowning slightly in interest, eyes intent on Suzuki.

After a moment or two, Ennoshita's mouth twitched upwards. "Uh, well . . . first, thank you for your honesty. To answer your question, no, of course that isn't a bar to you joining. As long as you want to play, we'll welcome you. As for the rest of it, unless you prove to be exceptionally skilled and we desperately need you, you will be a substitute, not a regular. Which means that you need to practice with the rest of us, of course, but not as intensely as you might be worrying. To be honest, it's entirely possible to get away with a minimal amount of practice - though obviously it's not something we'd want you to do. And there's always the option of leaving the club if you feel like the pressure's too much." His smile widened. "But I'd bet on you becoming more invested in the club than you intend to. That's just the kind of group we are."

_Wow. This has got to be the most welcoming club in the whole prefecture. I can't believe the captain answered so honestly, too!_

What had that last, intriguing statement meant, though?

Suzuki nodded smoothly, expression inscrutable. "Thank you, Ennoshita-san."

Ennoshita nodded in return, then turned his kind smile onto all of them. "I'm not sure how good a job I'm doing of selling the club to you guys - you're only the third group we've gotten up here, and you're way larger than any of the others - but I'd really encourage you to join. I'd do the same even if I wasn't captain. All you need to bring is a love for the sport and a willingness to do your part, and you'll fit right in. We have a lot of fun together, and we've all made friends for life here. I'm pretty sure any of these guys would say the same. Some of us are a bit loud, and some of us are a bit snarky, and some are pretty overexcitable, and some are just trying to retain some semblance of sanity -"

Yamaguchi snorted quietly, Kinoshita laughed, and Tanaka tried to scowl through his involuntary smile.

"Come on, Chikara, you're going to scare them away."

Ennoshita chuckled. "But we're more of a family than anything else, and we'd be very willing to extend a welcome to any of you too. Right, guys?"

There was a surprisingly enthusiastic cheer of assent from the team members. Hiroshi caught a pleased, startled smile on Kohei's face, and felt his own mouth twitching upwards in response.

Ennoshita clapped softly. "Okay, that concludes the introduction! Thank you all for listening. If you come back around eleven thirty or so, you can watch an informal match we're planning to play amongst ourselves. You can join in as well, if you'd like to see how well you fit in with the team. If you just want to watch, whether to get a measure of our abilities from outside the court or to get a sense of the game itself, that's fine too."

Hiroshi got to his feet with the rest, joining the mumbled chorus of 'Thank you!'. As he turned to the door, Hinata caught his eye, giving him a cheery smile, and he nodded in return, cheeks growing a little warm with pleasure.

When they stepped outside, Kohei was grinning a wide, pleased grin.

"That was really good, right? I really liked it. Didn't you, Hiro?"

"I did," Hiroshi admitted. "They seemed very friendly."

"Tatsuya-kun?"

Hiroshi noticed that Suzuki was tapping his leg restlessly. "I wasn't convinced."

"What?" Kohei looked dismayed. "Why? He even said you could get away with minimal practice!"

"That's not what I want to do," he replied calmly. "Doing that when everyone else is doing their best would be an insult. I wanted reassurance that the club isn't purely intense and tournament oriented, which he didn't give me."

Kohei scowled, looking almost angry - an expression that didn't look right on his face at all. Hiroshi hastily intervened before he could speak, not sure if Kohei was actually ticked off enough to start a fight, but not wanting to take the chance.

"How about we come back for the game? Wouldn't that show you how talented they are, Suzuki-san? So you can judge how much burden will fall to the first years?"

"Mmm." Suzuki sighed shortly. "Okay then, let's do that."

His tone made it clear his expectations weren't all that high

⸶⸷

_Approximately forty five minutes later_

Nishinoya dived with incredible speed, just managing to save Hinata's spike.

"Chance ball!"

"Agh, sorry!"

"Don't mind!"

"I've got it!"

"Kinoshita-san!"

Suzuki's mouth hung open, his eyes wide. Hiroshi was having a bit of trouble processing what had just happened as well.

"Was that a  _quick_?" Kohei gasped. "From there? With that speed?"

"He jumped so high," Hiroshi murmured, awed. "Like, his  _shoulders_ were above the net."

Kinoshita jumped and spiked, and Tsukishima and Ennoshita jumped in perfect synchrony.

"Oh wow, look at that block! The ball practically retraced its path!" Kohei was almost bouncing on his feet, beaming as his eyes followed the ball. "They're so good! And this is only a three on three, with one side missing a setter! Can you imagine what they'd be like as an actual team?"

"They'd be amazing," Hiroshi said, without a shadow of doubt, watching Ennoshita get ready to serve.

 _They're amazing already, I'm less sure now that joining would be a good idea,_  he thought, despondency beginning to creep over him. _Trying to keep up with such talented individuals would be . . ._

"Right? Hey, Hiro, you want to join them?"

Hiroshi almost took a step back in the face of Kohei's eagerness. "Uh, I - I don't know if -"

"Come on, don't be a scaredy cat. I know you haven't let yourself get out of practice. You're coming with me, no argument. Tatsuya-kun, what about you?"

Suzuki hesitated, eyes fixed on the ball as it floated over the net in a neat arc. "I'd like to watch from here for a bit longer. Besides, if I come, the numbers will be uneven."

"No, they won't, because then we could get Tanaka-san and Narita-san and Yamaguchi-san to join as well, so we can make it a six on six!"

"I'd rather not -"

"Tatsuya-kun, will you just -"

"Uh, excuse me?"

The three of them turned. A rather short boy stood behind them, wearing an excited grin and a blue and black uniform Hiroshi didn't recognize. His straight black hair fell to his shoulders, brushed over onto the left and pinned severely back on the right. His narrow eyes were a dark brown.

"If you don't want to do it -" He nodded to Suzuki. "I actually want to join myself. That okay?"

"Of course, go ahead."

Kohei gave Suzuki one last disgruntled look before turning to the boy with a smile. "Looking forward to playing with you! You weren't here before, right?"

"No, I just made it to Karasuno like five minutes ago, and I went straight to the volleyball desk. I almost didn't catch them before they closed up! They were really cool, though, they brought me up to the gym and everything. Oh, I'm Okumura Yuuta, by the way."

"Serizawa Kohei! Ah, and this is Akiyama Hiroshi and Suzuki Tatsuya. Nice to meet you!"

Hiroshi only had time to bow in greeting before there was a shout from the court.

"Hey, new guys, you want to join in now?"

"Yes!" Kohei grasped Hiroshi's wrist and pulled him forward, Okumura hurrying forward on his other side. Hiroshi followed, simultaneously amused and helpless.

Nishinoya grinned at them when they stepped on the court. "Glad to see you guys. Hey, Chikara, come and sort these guys into their teams!"

"Right, right, I'm coming. What are your names?"

They introduced themselves in turn, and Ennoshita nodded. "Okay, and what positions do you play?"

"Wing spiker!" Kohei proclaimed.

"Wing spiker," Hiroshi said, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

"Setter!" Okumura said cheerfully.

A slight hush fell over the room. "Setter?" Ennoshita repeated, looking across the net. Hiroshi followed his gaze, and flinched when he saw the suddenly intense gaze Kageyama was giving Okumura.

Okumura seemed to blanch a little as well, but he raised his chin, eyes steady. "Yes, setter."

"Right, okay . . . then you stay on our team, since they already have Kageyama. Akiyama, you stay here as well. Serizawa, you can join the other team. Is that okay?"

Hiroshi took his place with a sigh, trepidation bubbling in his stomach. He really wasn't looking forward to seeming mediocre and clumsy in this room of experienced volleyball players, who could do amazing quicks and sets he'd never even heard of.

Within some minutes of the game starting, however, he found those worries diminished considerably. His teammates really were incredibly supportive, calling out "Don't mind," or "Get the next one!" with such easy warmth when he fumbled that he couldn't help relaxing. And once he relaxed and focused -

Kohei yelped as the recieve flew awkwardly off his forearms. "Dammit, Hiro!" His expression settled into a rueful grin as he rubbed his forearms. "Since when do you spike like that?"

"Nice one, Akiyama!"

"Awesome, get us one more, Akiyama!"

Hiroshi accepted their praise with a quick dip of his head, smiling shyly. He hesitated for a moment, then held a hand up for Okumura.

"Thanks for that, it was a nice toss. It hit my hand really well."

Okumura looked surprised, then slapped his hand with a grin. "Sure, no problem! Nice kill, Akiyama!"

Time wore onwards steadily, the points growing on both sides. Hiroshi grew to become so wrapped up in the game - in trying to receive Hinata's quick, trying to get past Kageyama and Tanaka's block, trying to score the point without fail when the ball came to him - that the shrill call of the final whistle came as a shock.

He rested a hand on his knees, panting as the team slowly dispersed with cheerful shouts and calls for water. Kohei ducked under the net and came over, slapping his back lightly.

"Wasn't that fun, Hiro?"

Hiroshi looked up, smiling. "It actually was."

Kohei smiled back. "Told you. Hey, let me just go and talk to Tatsuya-kun for a minute."

"Sure."

Something smooth and cool was pressed into his hand, and he looked down in surprise. Yachi smiled up at him.

"Here, have some water, Akiyama-kun. You played great."

"Ah, t-thank you, Yachi-san . . ."

She giggled softly. "So, will you be joining the club?"

⸶⸷

" . . . Hiroshi. Hiroshi!"

Hiroshi blinked, raising tired eyes from his half-empty plate.

"Sorry, what?"

His mother gave him an exasperated glance. "I  _said_ , since Karasuno accepted you, will you be joining a club there? Did you find one you like today?"

Hiroshi smiled.

"Yeah. The volleyball club."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy ass ending, yes, I'm aware.  
> (The alert is still in effect)(More so actually)  
> Side note - Okumura, the shortest new first year, is taller than Hinata. Which Hinata is very sad about, and which Kags won't shut up about.  
> Also they all totally end up calling Tsukishima Tsukki-san, and Yamaguchi won't stop grinning about that. (I have a lot of ideas for these kids)  
> ALSO. I hereby announce that my OCs now and forever shall be named after those wonderful actors doing such mind blowing work and making all our lives better by giving us incredible performances as part of the Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu!. Honestly I'm surprised I haven't ranted about the sheer awesomeness that is the HaiSute production long before this, since I think I discovered it somewhere between chapter 2 and chapter 3. So yes. The first years' last names I picked before I knew about HaiSute and I put that in the first chapter, so they weren't chosen like that, but the first names are from the cast's names (apart from Hiroshi, which I just picked because it sounds nice and also I wanted his nickname to be Hiro - oh and Kaoru, uh which I think just sounds nice. Is it from Ouran Host Club? Ughhhhh. OKAY AFTER THIS ONLY FROM THE CAST MEMBERS' NAMES I SWEAR.)  
> Man I was so tempted to make Okumura's first name Rin though. (Ao No Exorcist :3)(Nyaaaaaa Nobuhiko-san you're the best Noya and the best Rin and the best Bakugo ahhhh)  
> School names Kiyose and Asuka were plucked off a 'List of Japanese high schools' Wikipedia page. Sorry, I didn't know what Japanese school names are supposed to sound like enough to make up my own.  
> Also, a question that has puzzled me for quite a while is how come Aoba Johsai and Dateko and everyone don't have way more applicants? Come to that, what about really famous schools like Fukurodani and Nekoma? There should be as much competition for those clubs as there was at Karasuno when they were at their best, right? (Sorry Akiteru sweetheart, I still love you.) But I guess that would have been a lot of extra work for Furudate-sensei (I'm actually not one to talk seeing as how I restricted the new members to four)  
> FINAL THING. Like it says on my profile, short scenes and omakes will be posted on my Tumblr (username yaelathewordsmith) on my secondary blog, Yaela'sWritingSpace (because I have a whole bunch of tiny ideas that would be a pain to work into this story, so their home shall be there!). Check it out and leave a note if you like what you see, I'd love to connect with more people on Tumblr!
> 
> And I'm done ^.^ Sorry for rambling!


	9. Down By The River, The River So Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than one person has wondered at the apparent imbalance in the friendship between Yamaguchi Tadashi and Tsukishima Kei. But it's not as one sided as it seems. Down by the river is where the balance is righted with hesitant words and an old song, where comfort is offered and accepted.
> 
> Five times they helped each other, and the one time Yachi Hitoka was there as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two to death, and I swear they were out to get me  
> 18 DAYS IT TOOK ME TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER  
> NYGH  
> ALL THE DIFFERENT TENSES I SWEAR THEY KILLED ME  
> PLEASE LET ME KNOW OF EACH AND EVERY TINY MISTAKE THIS WAS SO LARGE TO PROOFREAD
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this, Kind Reader, I put a lot into this chapter. We're back with Yachi, the sweetest most adorable thing ever!
> 
> The author recommends that the reader listen to the following songs before reading -
> 
> 1.The Bakuryuu Sentai Abaranger song, which is the theme song of the original Power Rangers Dino Thunder (for all those who are not aware, as I was not, till recently, that the Super Sentai series is the basis for the Power Ranger series).  
> 2\. Datte Atashi No Hero, by Lisa - closing song for season two of Boku No Hero Academia. Read the translated lyrics as well.  
> 3.Human by Christina Perri. For the best effect, imagine it playing in the background as you read. (Pardon me my melodramatic flourishes).  
> Also very minor spoiler warning for BNHA season 2.
> 
> AND NOW, FINALLY, LET US BEGIN!

 

It was Tsukki who started it, which seems odd to Tadashi now, when he thinks about it. The first instance of their unusual tradition . . . it had been somewhere about the end of third grade, hadn't it? The last year of elementary school. He and Tsukki had both been nine, and he'd known Tsukki for less than a year. And what had happened was -

Tadashi hooked his thumbs into the straps of his backpack as he walked, chewing on his lip absently. Something was definitely wrong; there was no explaining it away any longer. A couple of day's absence? Hay fever, maybe (though he didn't think Tsukishima had any allergies). A week? It could be a really bad cold, or viral fever. But Tsukishima had missed the elementary school graduation ceremony, and Tadashi knew he would never do something so disrespectful. Besides, he thought maybe Tsukishima had been looking forward to it - as far as he could tell. Certainly when he'd talked about it he'd smiled a bit more often than usual.

He sighed quietly, reached up to push the pedestrian crossing button, and tilted his face up as he rocked onto the balls of his feet. The sun would be down in an hour or so, and right now orange and rose were beginning to spill across the sky in full force. It was pretty, Tadashi thought, and wished he had some talent with paint and a brush, or at least that he had a camera with him, so he could capture it before it faded.

The light changed, and Tadashi crossed the road with a quiet sigh, turning to walk along the river. The riverbank sloped down a little steeply here, and if someone was lying down you couldn't really see them unless you stood close to the railing. Tadashi used to come here to play, sometimes, to maybe kick a ball around with his neighbours or fly a kite. They'd always end up shrieking with laughter, sopping wet from tumbling into the small, shallow pool that led off on one side.

Of course, that had been before - everything. Before the bullying started. Before third grade.

Before Tsukishima.

Tadashi kicked a pebble, frowning a little. He kind of missed having more people to hang out with, but . . . if he'd been part of a gang, instead of the target, he'd be a bully too, wouldn't he? With Tsukishima, he was safe. And he could be who he actually was, without worrying about getting laughed at. Tsukishima might tell him he was being stupid, or look exasperated and ask him what he thought he was talking about, but he never laughed at him. And he was really really cool, so it was actually kind of amazing that he even let Tadashi hang around. He never seemed to get upset about anything, and no one could ever bully him.

Which was why it was even more worrying that he hadn't been around for so long. Something really bad must have happened. Should he maybe go to Tsukishima's house? He didn't know where in the neighbourhood it might be, but he thought his mom knew. She might drop him there, if he asked nicely - but would that be a bother to Tsukishima? Would he not want him there? Or would that bother his family?

Well, he could call. His mom definitely had Tsukishima's mom's number, he was sure about that. Though he'd only gotten to know Tsukishima a bit after the school year started, their moms had met and taken to each other really fast. So he could call and ask if everything was okay. He just hoped Tsukishima wouldn't get mad, though he'd never really seen him mad before -

He yelped and took a hasty step back as something sleek and white slid across his field of vision.

_Oh, it's just a paper aeroplane . . ._

He glanced back across the road, where a group of kids were gesturing excitedly, their shouts reaching him even through the low rumble of traffic.

"Look at it go!"

"Nice one, Shota!"

"Will it make it to the river, do you think?"

Tadashi didn't recognise any of them, but the question intrigued him, so he watched with them as the plane rode the lazy breeze, swooping up high -

\- and then plummeted down to the grass slope.

The kids on the other side groaned.

"Man, it didn't even make it down the bank."

"It went further than any of the others, though . . ."

"Make another one, let's see if it goes further! We can try from behind that shop down the road."

Tadashi shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted down the bank, hardly noticing that the voices were trailing away. He'd happened to glance at the young clump of trees growing near the pool as the plane drifted down, and he thought he could see - was it? It couldn't be! He did live close by, he knew that, but he'd never . . . well, as far as Tadashi knew, he'd never come to the river.

Tadashi hesitated for a long moment - what if it was someone else, and he was making a mistake? - but then he slipped under the railing and hurried down the slope, hiking his backpack farther up his back. If it really was someone else, he'd just have to apologize and go away. Simple enough, he could do that . . .

As he got closer, though, he only became more certain that it was, in fact, Tsukishima. He was wearing that purple hoodie, and his hair was pale blonde, and - ah, he was turning! And yes, his glasses were gleaming in the evening light. It was him.

But he - looked -

He turned back around almost immediately, and Tadashi could feel his feet slowing down on their own. He'd never seen Tsukishima look like that. If  _he_  felt like Tsukishima had looked, he would want to be alone for a few hours - or, at least, he'd want his mother to hug him for a while.

He didn't know what Tsukishima would want, though. So should he keep going? Or would it be better to leave? No, it would be rude to leave now. He'd . . . he'd sit next to Tsukishima for a bit, and maybe try to talk. If he didn't seem like he wanted Tadashi around - or, of course, if he just said that outright - he'd leave and resort to calling him up in a few days, as intimidating as that idea was.

So Tadashi sat down, shrugging his backpack off, and held his crossed legs at the ankles, wondering what to say. On his right, Tsukishima was hugging his knees to his chest, face stony and eyes distant as they watched the flowing water.

It was quiet, quieter than usual. There weren't too many vehicles on the road, and birds had started to build their nests in the new trees sprouting by the pool, so there was birdsong to meld with the soft whistle of the breeze. Tadashi would have found it soothing if he hadn't been busy worrying about whether to say something - what to say, how to phrase it, when to say it, what tone to use so he would come across both as respectfully enquiring and sympathetic . . .

Tsukishima wasn't saying anything either. The silence stretched on and on, and soon enough Tadashi was almost fidgeting with worry. But Tsukishima never looked at him. He simply sat watching the river, glasses reflecting the light rippling across the water, and eventually Tadashi stopped glancing at him anxiously and began to watch the river as well.

He didn't notice, until fifteen minutes or so later, that his hands had relaxed their clench on his legs, that his shoulders had relaxed a bit, that his worry for and about Tsukishima now resembled a quiet hum rather than the noisy chaos from before.

Tadashi blinked, resting his chin in his hands, watching an insect vanish from the surface of the water with a faint  _plop_ , sucked under by a silvery shimmer that quickly swam away and disappeared.

_Huh, I guess I learned something new today . . . that the river is a good place to come to to calm down._

He glanced at Tsukishima, who looked just the same.

 _It doesn't seem to be working for Tsukishima, though. I guess I'll wait until he decides to talk or gets up to go home - or until I need to go home - since he seems okay with me being here. And until then . . ._  Tadashi took a deep breath.  _Till then, I'll try to keep a clear mind and not to get worried again, so I can help better if he_  does  _decide to talk._

With the river to help, keeping his worry at bay turned out to be much easier than Tadashi could have imagined. Before he knew it, his train of thought had shifted entirely - he'd gone from how the gym teacher had smiled and told him to keep practising volleyball the day before, to the elementary graduation ceremony, to the present his father had brought him from his last trip, to the show Tsukishima had introduced him to a few weeks ago . . .

"It's really cool," he'd said, actually looking pretty excited - like he did when he talked about his brother, the junior high ace. "It's got these people who use the power of dinosaurs to fight and stuff. They have these morphers, and swords, and - hey, let me show you, I'll get my brother's laptop -"

It  _had_  been pretty cool. Tadashi had learned the theme song within days, the one that went -

" _Abare, abare, abare_ ," he sang softly, absentmindedly. " _Makure, get up! Abare, abare, tsuki-tsukisusume . . ."_

Tadashi faltered, mouth going dry as Tsukishima turned to look at him with the most disbelieving stare he'd ever encountered. He flushed furiously - what was he thinking, singing the Bakuryuu Sentai Abaranger song when Tsukishima was in trouble and upset and worried, idiot that he was -

He opened his mouth to apologize immediately, but - wait - was that - had Tsukishima just shaken his head? It had been a slight movement, so he wasn't sure, but -

Tadashi hesitated, torn between apologizing as earnestly as he could and believing what he thought he'd seen. Then he closed his mouth slowly, anxiously scanning Tsukishima's face for a hint that he was doing the right thing.

Tsukishima turned back to face the water, burying his face in his arms upto his nose. His eyes flicked sideways for a moment, and one finger made a slight motion.

Tadashi hesitated again, looking from Tsukishima's eyes to his face to the set of his shoulders.

"Um,  _s-seigi no na wo ima k-kegasu no wa dare da? Saketa sora kara . . ._ "

He sang his way through the entire extended version, all four and a half minutes of it - wincing when his voice shook or when he messed up the words, hurrying on in the hope that Tsukishima wouldn't notice, because what if he got tired of his horrible singing and told him to stop, or even got up and left because of it?

But Tsukishima stayed. Tadashi only knew he was listening because, after a bit, one finger started tapping out the beat absentmindedly. Other than that, he could have been made of stone.

When Tadashi finished, hitting the last, high note extremely self consciously, Tsukishima raised his head a little and looked at him.

"Again," he said quietly. " . . . Please."

This time, Tadashi launched into the song with far less hesitation. It was helping Tsukishima, and that was all that mattered.

When he fell silent, for a moment there was no sound but that of the river and the birds and the breeze.

Then Tsukishima sniffled.

It was such an unexpected sound, Tadashi could only gape at him blankly. Tsukishima - tall and cool and smart and enthusiastic about only two things, dinosaurs and his older brother - was crying, actually crying. His eyes were red behind his glasses, and he turned away to wipe his nose on his sleeve.

Tadashi's heart dropped like a stone.  _Oh man, oh man, did I do something wrong? Or did that not help at all? What do I do now? Do I leave? Do I go and tell his mom? Do I try to give him a hug or something? Do I - how do I - I don't know what to -_

"I - I was at a funeral," Tsukishima hiccupped.

Tadashi's heart sank even further, sorrow and sympathy flooding into him.

"Oh! I'm - I'm really sorry, Tsukishima. Um - wh-who was it?"

Tsukishima took his glasses off and placed them on the ground, rubbing at his face furiously. "My dad," he mumbled.

Tadashi couldn't stop a hand from stealing over his mouth in horror. "Oh," he said faintly.

Tsukishima buried his head all the way under his arms.

_Ahhh, what do I do?!_

Tadashi reached out, pulled back, bit his lip furiously, took in Tsukishima's slightly shaking shoulders, and reached out again, carefully placing one hand on Tsukishima's shoulder and the other on his knee.

_I know he doesn't like people touching him and hugs and things, but he seems like he needs - I think I should - is this okay -?_

Tsukishima jerked a little, like he wanted to throw the touch off but had stopped himself with an effort. Tadashi squeezed carefully, trying to focus on comforting him instead of how intensely nervous he was.

They stayed that way for a long time.

Later, the next day, Tsukishima would manage to tell Tadashi about the stroke that had happened so quickly and silently. He would talk, quietly, looking into the distance, about how his mother and brother had pulled together and managed to support each other through the funeral, through everything, never showing their sorrow to him or to each other - and how that had kind of made everything worse, somehow. He would apologize, stiffly, for crying, and say that it wasn't that his father had been a particularly good or kind or loving man, but it had been a shock, and he hadn't been a bad person either, so -

And Tadashi would try to wave the awkwardness away with a smile and fluttering hands, and would touch him lightly on the shoulder and say it was fine, and he'd go with Tsukishima to lay flowers on the grave every year, and his mom had given him food to give to Tsukishima's family - he hadn't told her, of course! He really hadn't! She had heard from someone else, from Hashimoto-san across the road - and here! It was kind of a lot, but -

And Tsukishima would give him a look that would send him into blushing silence, and try to hide a smile that was more grateful than he wanted it to be.

On that evening, though, they sat in silence by the river, young trees rustling over their heads, warm hands on cold limbs, and one found a touch of comfort and solace he had never expected to find, while the other gave help he never thought he could - or would be called upon to give.

That was the first time.

⸸

The second time, Kei remembers, it was Yamaguchi. They'd been in the fifth grade, second years at middle school, both of them eleven, and -

\- Yamaguchi hadn't turned up to volleyball practice the day before, and he hadn't turned up today either. And even before that, in earlier practice sessions, he'd been jittery the whole time before gathering his stuff and rushing out as soon as Coach dismissed them. Kei pursed his lips slightly, one hand in the pocket of his jacket, and tugged his hood lower over his face to shut out the sharp breeze as he wondered what could be keeping Yamaguchi away. He was starting to really like volleyball, Kei could tell. But he'd been kind of weird for a week or so . . . like he was wilting. He didn't chatter on about random things on their way home as much, and he was quieter in class, and he didn't jump with as much nervous enthusiasm in club, and he was just altogether less bright in general. Like something was weighing on his mind. It bugged Kei, because he'd grown used to all of that in the couple of years they'd been in the same class, and having it change was - was just off, like missing a step when he was going down the stairs. And it also meant something was wrong with Yamaguchi that Kei didn't know about, which was  _really_ weird, because usually Kei was the first to hear about everything Yamaguchi was thinking. And now Yamaguchi was actually skipping practice . . . .

And if Kei was honest, he kind of missed having someone to walk home with.

He wasn't worried, though. Not by a long shot. He was just slightly perturbed, and wondering how long he should wait to see if Yamaguchi turned up before actually going to his house and finding out what was going on.

Kei looked down both sides of the road absently before moving to cross the street, wondering if actually going to his house to ask about this would be nosy. It would, wouldn't it? Maybe he could get his mom to make something to take over. Had Yamaguchi's birthday passed? It hadn't, right? It was . . . next week. Good, he could get his mom to make cake and use that as an excuse to visit. Assuming, of course, that Yamaguchi still didn't turn up to practice. Or missed school. Obviously if he went back to normal there wouldn't be a need for that.

Well, getting his mom to make cake still sounded like a good idea . . .

Kei's eyes automatically flicked to the river as he walked down the sidewalk, one hand reaching out absentmindedly to trail along the railing, despite the nip in the air. It was a habit he'd fallen into a while ago, looking down at the river whenever he used this road.

It was due to that habit that he stopped after a few steps, frowning as he squinted through his glasses. There was a dark spot near the pool, under the clump of trees. It was a - someone wearing a jacket? Yeah, a navy blue jacket. A jacket that looked entirely too familiar.

He paused for a moment, uncertain, then shrugged and slipped under the railing, making his way down to the trees.

 _Okay, this has to be - It is, isn't it?_   _Dark hair, that ridiculous tuft sticking out on top, and that jacket with the collar that's starting to fray_  -

Definitely him.

"Yamaguchi?"

He flinched and turned around quickly, sniffing. "Tsukki?"

Kei couldn't help frowning a little, but decided to let the stupid nickname slide for once. He slung his bag off and sat down, ignoring the chill of the grass on the backs of his legs. "What are you doing here?"

Yamaguchi sniffed again, looking away. "Nothing," he mumbled.

Kei's eyes narrowed. "How come you haven't been to practice?"

"Not feeling good."

"You still came to school, though."

Yamaguchi didn't answer.

Kei tugged at a blade of grass, feeling unusually off balance. He wasn't used to comforting people. Finding out what was wrong was obviously what he needed to do, but Yamaguchi didn't seem inclined to talk about it, and just asking straight out felt kind of rude - and wouldn't be likely to get him an answer, anyway. He had to put him at ease a bit, first. No way was he going to go for a hug or anything, though, so how else could he . . . A pat on the shoulder or something?

_That won't be enough . . . When I'm upset, what helps me is, um . . . Nii-chan talking me through it, and Okaasan hugging me, and a couple of episodes of Bakuryuu - Bakuryuu Sentai . . ._

Right. There was  _that_. Something he hadn't expected would help him, something he never would have thought of.

The blade of grass, shredded by nervous fingers, was tossed to the wind as Kei cleared his throat.

_You came up with this, Yamaguchi, so it had better work . . . ugh, I can't believe I'm doing this. God, okay, on three - one, two, three -_

" _Abare, abare, abare . . . makure -"_

Yamaguchi turned to look at him instantly, mouth falling open. Kei looked straight ahead, doing his best to ignore both the incredulous gaze and the heat in his own cheeks.

His voice seemed thin and creaky to his own ears, but after a bit Yamaguchi settled back to listen, so it must not have been as bad as he thought. In fact, when he looked over for a moment towards the end of the song, Yamaguchi was smiling, just a tiny bit.

" . . . _Bakuryuu Sentai Abaranger . . . Abarangerrr!_ "

He snapped his mouth shut as fast as he could, cutting off the last note prematurely, and dared to glance at Yamaguchi.

Who was smiling a little wider now, even though the tears hadn't stopped.

"Thank you, Tsukki," he said, soft and choked, a blush stealing up his own neck at how his voice was shaking. Kei didn't care about that - he'd just embarrassed himself in a way he knew would come back to haunt him all too often in the next few days.

_Come on, Yamaguchi, stop crying. Tell me that helped, at least a little - tell me I didn't just embarrass myself like that for no reason._

Yamaguchi still didn't look like he could really talk though, so, after a moment's hesitation, he reached out and placed an awkward hand on Yamaguchi's shoulder.

Yamaguchi gave an odd mixture of a gulp and a sob at the touch, and Kei hastily drew away, face burning even more, feeling entirely out of his depth.

_Okay, I give up. Let him talk if he wants to now, I don't know what else to do._

So he waited while Yamaguchi rubbed at his face and tried to choke down his sobs, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he felt.

To Yamaguchi's credit, he managed to pull himself together in about five minutes, and it was just like him, Kei thought, just typical of him, that the first thing out of his mouth was an expression of gratitude.

"Thanks, Tsukki, I - sorry for - being a mess, I -"

"Don't worry about that," Kei said, more curtly than he would have liked to. "What's wrong?"

Yamaguchi wiped his nose. "My p-parents are - are fighting."

Kei frowned. This was why Yamaguchi had been so small and quiet for the past few days?

"For how long?"

"For - for some time," Yamaguchi admitted. "Maybe a couple of weeks? I mean, it's like - whenever I'm around they're just always  _fighting_ , about  _everything_. About, um, salary things, and about - about me, and about family things . . . a lot of stuff. I - I - when I go to sleep I don't use the bed, I take the blankets and everything and go under the bed and curl up there, because it's - it's easier not to hear them. They're so  _loud_ , and my mom always ends up crying, not sad crying but the kind of crying that happens when you're really, really angry, you know? And my dad always ends up breaking things, all the pictures and glass things in our house are broken now. I don't know how much longer they're going to - today my - my dad, he s-said that he didn't want to b-be a part of this family anyway and he packed a - a bag and he left and my mom shut herself in her room and I didn't know what to do so I came here because I didn't want t-to stay there anymore - "

Kei reached out again, patting him gingerly on the shoulder. "This is why you skipped practice?"

"I - yeah, I know it doesn't make sense but - I started to be scared that if I wasn't there, I'd come back one day and neither of them would be -" Yamaguchi stifled a sob. "And they used to fight before too, but never so badly, and it was only after I came home with a bad wrist from receiving - you remember right, two weeks ago or something - that they started - that it got so bad - so - skipping practice - I thought maybe - at least it wouldn't make things worse if I was home earlier - but I shouldn't have, right? It didn't help in the end, he left anyway, and Coach would have - did he -"

"Don't worry about Coach," Kei said, looking away for a moment. "He's not mad. Don't worry about missing practice, either. You just - I just got a bit - worried, I guess. You like volleyball, you've never skipped before. So I wasn't sure what to think."

The watery smile Yamaguchi gave him was somehow worse than any of his sobs before.

"Thanks for worrying about me, Tsukki," he said quietly.

Kei drummed his fingers on his leg uncomfortably. "You don't need to thank me for that. Uh, can I ask - you're not - getting hurt, right?"

"Getting - getting hurt?"

"I mean . . . you mentioned like broken pictures and glass everywhere, so I just wanted to know if anything ever happened to - uh, to you . . ."

"Oh! Oh, no. No, they always send me to my room. They keep me out of the way."

Kei let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Oh. Good. Okay. So, um . . . do you want to stay at my house?"

Yamaguchi blinked at him, eyes and nose both red. "What?"

"I mean, things seem pretty bad, so . . . my mom would, you know. Take care of you. She'll talk to your mom about it. Your parents could sort everything out without you getting scared, and you can go home when everything is settled."

Yamaguchi met his gaze for a few moments - Kei noticed he didn't seem to be crying any more - then turned and looked out over the river, biting at his chapped lips.

"No," he said eventually, wiping the last of the tears away. "I really appreciate the - the offer, but, um. My dad is gone now anyway, and . . . I think my mom needs me with her right now?" He gave Kei a smile that was, at least, more genuine than the one before. "I feel better, actually. Now that I've told you about it. And if I really need to, I can come over, right?"

Kei blinked.  _Huh. I thought he'd be sure to jump at the chance to get away from his house. I guess I misjudged him_. "Uh, yeah, of course."

"Thank you, Tsukki. I definitely will come over if I need to, okay? Don't worry."

"I'm not particularly worried." Kei muttered, digging his hands into his pockets. " . . . Take care of your mom, I guess."

At that, Yamaguchi smiled like he always did, full and bright. "I will!"

Yamaguchi's parents did get divorced a couple of months later, and he never came to stay over at Kei's house during that time. He did come over on the weekends, though, when they watched Super Sentai and played video games and never mentioned what had happened that evening.

At the time, though, in a freezing wind, on crunching grass, Kei learned, for the first time, how it felt to worry about a friend - and how it felt to comfort a friend.

That was the second time.

⸸

The third time, Tadashi recalls, it was Tsukki again. Both of them were twelve, in the sixth grade, and -

\- Tadashi knew exactly what was wrong. He'd known before, of course, he'd been there when it happened, but he'd hoped it hadn't hit Tsukki hard enough that - but then Tsukki hadn't turned up at school, and he'd  _known_  -

So he took the river road home, and sure enough, once he got halfway down the slope he could see the pale glint of Tsukki's hair against dark wood, where he had curled up and nestled his lanky body in the hollow of the trunk of a particularly twisted tree.

"Hi, Tsukki," he said quietly, sitting down.

" . . . Hi."

They were silent for a long time, long enough that the evening calls of the birds shifted to squeaks of bats, scattered on the edge of hearing; long enough that the rosy blush of the sky faded to deepening twilight, the first stars twinkling down.

"Tsukki."

"Mm."

"Would - would you like me to sing? The Abaranger song?"

Tsukki stiffened, hands tensing around his torso.

"If - if you want," he muttered eventually, the words curt.

The words came easier this time, now that he knew it had helped Tsukki once before - that it had helped him enough to make him sing the same song when trying to help Tadashi. He sang slowly, evenly, trying to make the familiar tone as smooth and soothing as he possibly could.

When the last note had faded from the air, though, he wasn't sure it had worked. Tsukki looked like he might have relaxed a little, but he was still staring at the water, like his mind was somewhere he would much rather it wasn't.

At times like this, Tadashi would ordinarily wait for Tsukki to decide that he wanted to talk. After more than three years of friendship, Tadashi knew Tsukki liked to take his own time to get to things, especially when he was upset. Tsukki never swore or snapped when he got angry, he never blurted out anything on impulse, he never let anything slip by accident. He liked to be in control of what he said and how he said it, far more so when he was emotional.

But Tadashi had never seen him hurt so deeply. The song didn't seemed to have worked, and it was getting later and later and he still wasn't saying anything, and he really looked like he could sit here the whole night, just staring at the water, if Tadashi let him. So he decided to chance prompting him.

"Um - Tsukki?"

"Mm."

"Did - did you talk to Akiteru-kun?"

Tsukki stiffened instantly, shoulders hunching. Tadashi watched him, worried, ready to apologize if he snapped or looked upset, but . . . but he just looked more hurt, more crushed than before.

"No," he mumbled eventually. "He left early for school, and when I got home my mom said he went over to a friend's house to do homework or something. I . . . I waited for a few hours, then I . . ."

"Came here," Tadashi finished quietly. Tsukki nodded, a jerk of the head so slight Tadashi almost missed it.

_I . . . probably shouldn't ask where he went instead of school . . ._

"Are you, um . . . are you angry with him?"

"No!" The reply was sharp and quick and loud, startling after his previous silence. "Of course not."

Tadashi kept quiet now, watching Tsukki's face, watching his frown deepen, his lips begin to tremble.

"Well . . . maybe - maybe a little. For lying to me. Because I made a fool of myself, boasting about him to - to everyone -" Tsukki's left fist clenched unconsciously in the ground, pulling out a handful of grass, and Tadashi inched a little closer, worry building inside his chest.

"But I wouldn't - I would never tell him that. I get why he said what he did. He was working so hard, and - probably he thought he  _would_ eventually become a regular on the team, and by the time he reached third year and knew it wasn't going to happen he couldn't tell me it was all a lie. It's all the fault of that - that stupid club, at that stupid school -"

Tsukki whipped his glasses off and dragged a sleeve across his face, rough and impatient, eyes screwed up tight.

"You know that, anyway," he muttered. "You know how much he worked for it. How much he wanted it."

"Yeah," Tadashi said softly, feeling a swoop of sadness in his stomach. "And I don't think anyone deserved it more."

"No one did," Tsukki snapped. "No one."

They fell into silence once more, broken only by Tsukki's occasional sniffs.

"Is he okay?" Tadashi asked hesitantly, after it seemed like Tsukki had grown a little calmer.

"No." Tsukki hugged his knees closer to his chest, and Tadashi saw something he'd never seen before, something cold and angry and hard, settle into Tsukki's eyes. "He's not. I've never seen him so - so devastated. By anything. Not even when he was in ninth grade, when - when he was arranging the funeral and everything."

Tadashi clasped his hands together, trying not to fidget in his worry. "He'll be okay, though?"

Tsukki shrugged slightly. "I hope so. I'll try to - to help him. If I can. However I can. But -"

There was a long moment of quiet.

"But I - can't trust him anymore."

And Tadashi thought he'd never heard more bitter words.

He didn't know what to say. After a while, he hesitantly settled for, "I'll - can I come over next weekend? If I can help in any -?"

"Help how?" Tsukki said harshly. "By practising volleyball with him, like we always do? You think he's going to want to touch a volleyball ever again?"

Tadashi turned to face Tsukki entirely at that, mouth open in disbelief. "He won't - he loves volleyball! He wouldn't stop playing -"

"He should!" Tsukki yelled, the shout echoing across the water. Even as Tadashi jerked back he saw the tears starting to roll down Tsukki's face once more.

"He should," Tsukki said, his voice breaking as he wiped his tears away again. "If someone as good and - and dedicated as him couldn't make it - he shouldn't bother with it any more. It's not worth it."

Tadashi didn't know what to say. He'd never seen Tsukki so angry, so hurt, and probably nothing he could say would help. But he had to say  _something_ , even if it didn't help, he had to try -

Tsukki didn't give him the chance, though. He got to his feet, hunching his shoulders, and Tadashi caught sight of that - that hard, disquieting something, too much like broken glass - in his eyes once more, and was suddenly more worried for Tsukki than for Akiteru-kun.

He scrambled to his feet too, reaching out desperately. "Tsukki, wait!"

Tsukki looked back, eyes red.

"Are you - will  _you_ be okay?"

The glint of the glass, cold and angry, receded a little, and Tadashi watched it go with a clutch of relief so strong it surprised him.

"Yeah," Tsukki muttered after a moment, looking away. "I will be. It'll just - just give me some time, okay?"

"Okay," Tadashi said uncertainly.

Tsukki took a few steps forward, then stopped.

"Yamaguchi - thanks."

And he walked back up the slope, towards the harsh streetlights, leaving Tadashi thinking -

\- thinking that he was slightly reassured, but that Tsukki had looked too cold (his mouth too thin, his hands too tight, his eyes, oh, his eyes too bright with the glint of broken glass) as he turned away for his worries to be erased.

Until then Tsukki had hardly ever interfered in anything that didn't involve him. It wasn't that he had been unsure of himself or anything, but if it didn't affect him he wouldn't butt in, simply because he didn't see why he should. It was a trait Tadashi had understood well and taken for granted over the years. And so he was shocked, to put it mildly, when, a week later, Tsukki had sneered at Naoki - class bully, king of gym class, snatcher of all delicacies from the  _bento_  box - out of nowhere, when Naoki had just been laughing with his friends. Naoki had been as dumbstruck as the boys who had been bullying Tadashi in third grade, and when he'd slunk off Tadashi was sure he'd seen a hint of tears in his eyes.

And the shards settled, sharpened to perfection by Tsukki, so that it became the first thing people saw about him. Tadashi had hated it because Tsukki was so much more, so much better than that, so much more than honeyed words and a cutting gaze, but he had never been able to change it . . . so he learned to live with it, and even managed to snicker along, after a while. Besides, Tsukki was only like that to the people who really deserved it.

But there was always a small part of him that hated it, that wished the cutting edge would disappear entirely and never come back, instead of vanishing occasionally, when Tsukki really smiled.

It never did.

And his smiles grew rarer, too.

That . . . was the third time.

⸸

The fourth time, Kei remembers, it was Yamaguchi. Kei had gotten into Todaiji for junior high, and Yamaguchi had ended up at Kaishin. So for the first time in the four years since they'd met - and for the first time in six years - they had gone to different schools. It had been in their - second year? Yes, their second year, eighth grade, and -

\- well, Kei thought as he leaned on the railing, he was surprised it hadn't happened earlier.

He sighed softly, pulled back the hood of his jacket, and hopped over the railing onto the grass.

Yamaguchi didn't hear him coming, only looking around when he sat down right next to him.

"Oh! Hey, Tsukki!"

"Hey. Haven't seen you in a bit."

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that." Yamaguchi smiled apologetically. "Kaishin is really strict about submission dates, and I was really behind on my homework, so I needed a bit of time to catch up."

"Hm." Kei scanned his face. "Are you free on Saturday, then? We could go to the arcade, we haven't been in some time."

Yamaguchi's gaze flickered away. "Uh, I'm still not caught up on everything. There's this project we have to do in science class, to be submitted on Monday, and I haven't even started."

"Oh. Okay."

"Sorry, Tsukki. Maybe after a while?"

"Sure. It's fine."

Yamaguchi turned to look back over the river, which would have tipped Kei off instantly, if everything else hadn't. If Yamaguchi was really okay, he would be chattering nineteen to the dozen right now, about school and class and people Kei couldn't care less about. He definitely wouldn't fall silent.

Kei sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair.

_Okay, this is what friends are for, right? Just say it, the longer you take, the more awkward it'll get._

"Yamaguchi."

"Yeah?"

"Do you . . ."

He gritted his teeth as his voice trailed off.

_Stop. Stop it. Don't think of it as embarrassing. Just say it._

He took a breath, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. "Do you need me to - uh, you know, the Abaranger song?"

_Perfect. That couldn't have sounded any more awkward if I'd tried . . ._

Yamaguchi stared at him for a moment, expression blank. Kei noted, with horror, the glimmer of rising tears in his eyes.

_Oh man, what did I do wrong -_

But the threatened tears didn't fall. Yamaguchi only sniffed quietly and blinked them back, saying, "How did you know?"

Kei shrugged. "You were acting weird. You . . . don't look happy."

Yamaguchi snorted weakly, sounding more pathetic than defiant, and hugged his knees close to his chest.

"So . . . is that a yes?" Kei asked, hoping - with more than a twinge of guilt - that the answer was no.

"No - no, I'm good. It's not that bad," Yamaguchi mumbled. "Thanks, though, Tsukki."

_Wow, really? He said no?_

Kei gave him a careful look. "Still bad enough for you to come and sit out here on a cold evening."

"S'not that cold."

Kei suppressed a snort at the weak denial, saying instead, "But it's still bad?"

Yamaguchi pressed his nose to his knees, arms clenching tighter. Kei watched the first of the tears spill over onto his cheeks, and sighed softly, settling in to wait.

It was around ten minutes later that Yamaguchi managed to mumble, "It's like - going to school every day is like - I feel like I'm going to throw up on the bus, every morning. It's like stage fright, but way, way worse, because when you have stage fright it's because you're scared something bad might happen. I  _know_  something bad will happen. It always does."

"Bullies?" Kei asked, as gently as he could manage.

Yamaguchi sniffed, wiping at his face. "Yeah."

"As bad as third grade."

" . . . Not yet."

"Hm. Don't let it become that bad, then."

"It's easy for you to say, Tsukki." Kei blinked at the watery glare Yamaguchi gave him, mildly startled. "You've never been bothered by people like this. Being - being cool comes so easily to you."

Ke opened his mouth to deny that immediately - how exactly was he cool, anyway? Because he never paid much attention to what other people thought or said about him? Because he'd never been afraid to speak his mind? - but an old memory flashing into his mind made him pause.

It had been - maybe three years ago? There had been some incident at Nii-chan's school, something small, but he'd upset someone else . And his mom had said, looking more stern than she usually did, "You can never judge anyone else by your standards. It's the rudest thing you can do, assuming they can do what you can and never thinking twice about their limitations and fears. They're different from you, and you're different from them. You need to be considerate, always."

Kei closed his mouth, rethinking his response, and finally said, "I guess people don't really bother me like that, yeah. It's not impossible for you to make them stop messing with you, though."

"I can't, I'm not - I'm too -"

"No, I think you can."

The firm tone seemed to give Yamaguchi pause. He glanced over, meeting Kei's gaze for the first time in a while.

"You - really think so?"

"Yeah," Kei answered, ignoring the wobble in Yamaguchi's voice. "Guys like these pick on people who they know will react - people they know they can force to react the way they want them to. You don't have to yell at them or anything, or get into a fist fight, to make them stop. You just need to stay calm and collected. Make them think what they say doesn't affect you."

"That's not easy when they seem to find something wrong with me in every - something to make fun of in everything I do, in how I look -"

"I know," Kei said, cutting off the rising sob in the words. "I'm not saying it's easy."

They were quiet for a moment before Yamaguchi said, "But you think I can."

Kei nodded.

"I don't know how, though." He sounded helpless, but not hopeless, which was, at least, better than before.

"I can help you out?" Kei said, and he couldn't quite stop it from coming out as a question. "Like, uh . . . look, just come over to my house for the weekend. We'll figure something out, we'll try to think of things you might be able to do when stuff like this happens. And . . . I don't know, you can practise them by imagining I'm the bully or something."

A corner of Yamaguchi's mouth quirked up, just the slightest bit. "You want me to practise - what, yelling at you?"

"Standing up to me, not yelling at me," Kei said, giving him an annoyed look. "And not me, the guys who - look, if you think it's stupid -"

"No!" Yamaguchi lifted his head, still looking pretty anxious, but with his mouth softer than before, curving upwards. "No, of course I don't, Tsukki. I'll definitely come over on the weekend."

"Sure you don't have to work on that project?" Kei muttered, a little more snarkily than he'd meant to.

Yamaguchi went red, but he didn't look hurt. He . . . actually never looked hurt, whatever Kei said to him.

_That's . . . huh. Wow. I never noticed that before. How did I never -?_

"No, you know I was lying about that. I mean, I do have a project, but it's almost done." Yamaguchi fiddled with his shoelaces a bit, ducking his head shyly. "Thanks, Tsukki. You're the best."

Kei snorted, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks were. "Sure. Till then, don't - don't let them get to you, okay?"

Yamaguchi smiled a little, eyes now faint pink instead of red. "Okay."

"Okay, then."

_Right, so that's handled . . . Oh, right, Nii-chan will be home from college this weekend. Would it be a good idea to ask him about this? Probably not, I guess, but -_

"Tsukki?"

Kei looked back at Yamaguchi. "Yeah?"

"When - when we get to high school, are we going to - can we - I mean -"

"Same school?" Kei asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um, yeah . . ."

"Yeah, of course."

Yamaguchi really lit up at that, uncurling and sitting up straight with a happy grin. "Okay!"

Kei gave him a flat look, but couldn't quite stop his own mouth from twitching. Yamaguchi, unfortunately, caught the movement, and only grinned wider.

"Hey, Tsukki!"

"What?"

"Wanna sing it together?"

Kei blinked. "What?"  _Is he serious right now?_

Yamaguchi leaned forward and gave him a pleading look, all wide brown eyes and pouting mouth.

_For the love of -_

"Please?"

_. . . oh, what the hell._

"Fine," he muttered.

Yamaguchi made him sing it three times, but, oddly enough, Kei found he didn't mind as much as he thought he would have.

That was the fourth time.

⸸

The fifth time, it was Yamaguchi again. It had been a day or two before they started school at Karasuno. Kei had been walking home from the convenience store, nikuman and shrimp chips and onigiri that was probably stale jostling each other in the bag in his hand, headphones clamped around his ears. Night had fallen maybe half an hour before, and when Kei had glanced out over the river, he'd caught sight of a glint of light among the bushes. He'd seen it and -

\- slowed down, frowning a little. The light wasn't too bright, given the distance, and it was the artificial, too-harsh glow of a smartphone. What really caught his attention, though, was the face the light was illuminating .

Kei tapped a finger against his leg, eyes on the light as he considered whether to go or not. His cousins were at home right now, they'd had come over for a few days - the food was for them, so his mother would be expecting him back soon.

But Yamaguchi was down by the river.

Kei glanced at his watch. Given how noisy the house had been before he'd left, no one would expect him back for at least another twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.

_Hopefully that's enough time to sort out - whatever is bothering him._

It was the rustle of the plastic bag that alerted Yamaguchi. He turned quickly, tilting the phone so he could see who was approaching, and Kei squinted, the sudden glow making his eyes ache.

"Don't do that," he said, setting the bag down and seating himself as he slipped his headphones off.

"Oh, sorry, Tsukki." Yamaguchi tapped the power button, and the light disappeared. "What are you doing outside? I thought your cousins were at home."

Kei held up the bag in answer. "They wanted stuff from the convenience store, and I volunteered. It was too loud, with all of them there."

"No cloth bag? I thought your mom insisted -"

"Yeah, I forgot to take it." Kei's vision was back by now, his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he scanned Yamaguchi's face, searching for hints as to what could have driven him out here. If his dad had dropped by on one of his rare visits his eyebrows would be pinched with worry; if his overworked mom had snapped at him one too many times he would be trying to stop his mouth from trembling; and if something had upset him he would be blinking more often than usual. He wasn't doing any of that . . . but he  _was_  tapping the ground in a restless rhythm, and the set of his shoulders was tense with nervous energy. Something was worrying him, then - not too serious, because then he wouldn't be talking so easily about cloth bags and his stupid cousins, but insistent enough to make him leave his house in search of peace of mind.

"Ah, okay. Hopefully she doesn't yell your ear off for that!"

"Probably she will," Kei said, shifting so he was sitting more comfortably. "So why are you out here?"

Yamaguchi's shoulders tensed further, but he answered with a fair assumption of nonchalance. "It's just a nice night out. I thought it would be good to sit outside and enjoy it for once."

"Yamaguchi, you live in a house with a pretty big garden. If all you really wanted was to sit outside, you wouldn't have come all the way down to the river."

"It's not that far," Yamaguchi countered, the words just a little too fast, a little too unsteady. "Maybe I just wanted to sit by the river for a bit."

"Maybe." Kei turned to look at him. "Is that really the only reason you're here?"

Yamaguchi held his gaze fleetingly before his eyes shifted down and away.

"Well - no."

Kei made a non-committal sound, gaze steady on Yamaguchi's face.

"But it's nothing really bad, I swear. I just - I just had a lot of thoughts stuck in my head. I couldn't stop worrying, and eventually it kind of became like - I don't know, like it was sucking me in. So I thought sitting here might help me sort my mind out."

Kei couldn't help frowning a little. Yamaguchi had a tendency to worry, of course, and he could zero in on the worst possible scenario in a situation like a dog scenting a bone, which usually ended up in him fretting about it until Kei snorted about how unlikely it was and told him to keep quiet. But Yamaguchi was entirely aware of that, and he had been trying to learn to cut off anxious trains of thought before they got too troublesome. And as far as Kei knew, he'd been succeeding. His last year at Kaishin had been spent reasonably happily, despite the stress of entrance exams - especially the entrance to Karasuno - and despite the fact that he'd only just managed to stand up to the people bullying him the previous year. So for him to say that the anxious spiral had been insistent enough to force him to seek a quieter place to deal with it was not reassuring.

It was also not reassuring that he didn't seem to have succeeded.

"What were you worrying about?"

Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his head, looking both hesitant and sheepish. "Stupid stuff, Tsukki. Not really -"

"If it was enough to make you come out here, it's not stupid."

There was a brief silence.

"What Karasuno is going to be like," Yamaguchi admitted eventually, staring at the ground. "Like, the people, and - you know -"

"You managed last year, though, didn't you?" Kei said, frowning slightly.

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't exactly pleasant, and . . . it took time before I could . . ."

"But you won't be alone this time."

Yamaguchi glanced up, something soft and surprised and nervous in his eyes. "I know, but I figured you wouldn't want to - I mean, wouldn't it be - for you to -"

"Just say it, Yamaguchi," Kei sighed.

"You wouldn't want to be burdened by me!" Yamaguchi blurted out unhappily. "Just because I'm too weak to take care of myself - that doesn't mean you should have to - it shouldn't be your job to take care of me!"

Kei tilted his head a little, giving him a blank look. "Like it ever would be."

Yamaguchi blinked, uncertain.

"You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. And what do you mean, weak? You managed before -"

"Yes, but I was - I couldn't -"

"That doesn't matter!" Kei snapped, mildly. "It doesn't matter how scared how you were or how long it took you. You did it, didn't you?"

"I -"

"Didn't you?"

"Well, yeah -"

"Then that's all that matters. And you're being stupid if you think I'd rather stand by and watch than help you out if you need it."

"But it would be a bother for you!"

"Probably." Kei shrugged, placing his hands behind him and leaning back. "So?"

_It's still worth it, idiot._

Yamaguchi blinked at him, and then smiled like he'd said it out loud, bright and surprised.

Kei huffed softly. "Is that all you were worrying about?"

The smile faded a little. "Um. Also about . . . volleyball?"

"What about it?"

"Are - are you going to apply for the volleyball club?"

Kei couldn't stop his mouth from going flat, but he nodded.

"Even though -?"

"It's not the same as back then. They aren't a powerhouse anymore. And I'd be stupid to try for another club, instead of the one that's actually doing something I'm familiar with, just because of what it was like some eight years ago."

"So it's a matter of convenience, huh?" Yamaguchi's gaze was surprisingly sharp, searching Kei's face.

He shrugged, feigning indifference. "Pretty much."

"Okay . . . and - do you want me to -?"

"Do  _you_  want to?"

"I guess, yeah, but Kaishin didn't have a volleyball club, so -"

"If you say you're out of practice, you're going to buy me cake at that new cafe every Saturday afternoon, all through high school, to make up for the last three years we wasted practicing together."

Yamaguchi snorted a laugh, and Kei couldn't help smiling slightly as well.

"Okay, I won't say that. Sorry, Tsukki, I guess I just worry too much about this kind of stuff. I'm still not a particularly powerful player, though."

Kei shrugged. "It's not like we're going to be trying to win a world championship. You still have fun playing, and that's all the reason you need to join the club. Besides -" He hesitated for a moment. "No one else spikes my tosses as easily as you do."

Yamaguchi grinned, the happy glow in his eyes clear even in the dim light from the waning moon. Kei looked away, fighting the urge to rub the back of his neck.

"Okay, Tsukki! I won't worry about this any more. And - thanks!"

"No problem," Kei muttered, starting to get to his feet. "I'll see you at school, then."

"Wait!" Yamaguchi stretched a hand out to stop him. "What about . . .?"

Kei gave him a disbelieving look. "No."

"Come on! We always do it!"

"All the more reason not to do it now."

"Ahh, Tsukki, it's like a tradition by now, come on."

"It's stupid. We're not ten years old anymore."

"Well, so it's nostalgic! Like a bit of our childhood!" Yamaguchi's teeth gleamed in the dark when he grinned. "And you can't say you don't like it."

"I don't," Kei said halfheartedly.

Yamaguchi faked a gasp, clutching his hands to his chest. "You can't mean that, Tsukki! Bakuryuu Sentai Abaranger is the most timeless of the Super Sentai series, and the theme song is the best -"

"Ugh, fine!" Kei groaned. "But I'm not singing it. You can do it."

He ended up joining in anyway, eventually. Damn Yamaguchi and his weird knack for getting Kei to do things he didn't want to do . . .

His mother wasn't too happy when he got back late, but he kind of thought it had been worth it.

That was the fifth time.

⸸

Hitoka hums to herself on her way home, face tilted up to the dark sky that's just beginning to fade to a rich purple. It had been a good day at school. She'd done well on the three tests, Ono-sensei had praised her essay in front of the whole class, and practice has been going really well the whole week. Okumura-kun is picking up a lot in record time, Suzuki-kun is now nearly as intimidating a middle blocker as Tsukishima-kun, and she rather thinks that Akiyama-kun and Serizawa-kun are in mild danger of picking up on Tanaka-senpai's habit of ripping his shirt off after a particularly good spike, given how much time and effort he's been putting into teaching them.

The only thing nagging at her is that Ayane insists - has been insisting for a day or two - that something is a little off with Tsukishima-kun. Hitoka herself can't really see it, but then again, volleyball practice, loud and distracting and quite grueling, is not exactly the best place to try to decipher Tsukishima's expressions, which pretty much only switch between focused, bored, and mildly disdainful at the best of times. If she were in Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's class, she might be able to tell . . . as it is, she flatters herself that she knows him fairly well, and she can't see much difference in him.

Hitoka pauses at a junction, tapping one foot lightly in contemplation before turning to the left. She has time, tonight, what with her mother being on a work trip and it being a long weekend; she only needs to cook for herself, and she has all of tomorrow to do her chores. She can afford to stretch her legs, take the scenic view home tonight.

And it really is scenic. The sun is still spilling light up from below the horizon, as if reluctant to allow night to fall, and the river is glowing in gentle shades of gold and pink as it flows on its way. The clump of trees planted so long ago has grown and spread, so much so that it's a favoured haunt of children looking to play hide and seek. Hitoka smiles as she gazes down at it, remembering happy evenings spent with old friends there, evenings pervaded by a content innocence she wouldn't mind having once more.

It's as she's following the line of the riverbank along to where it curves inwards, forming a pool by the stand of trees, that she catches sight of a seated figure, dark against the rippling water. At any other time, she would look away and hurry on her way, assuming it to be someone waiting for their partner to show up for a clandestine meeting, or maybe a college student home for the summer break, sneaking a cigarette or something stronger than beer, but now her feet are slowed by a gentle bolt of recognition.

She hesitates for a minute or two, one hand on the cool, metal railing. There's a lull in the traffic, and the wind is blowing her way, so she can catch a snatch or two of his soft voice (maybe he's on the phone?), and she's more sure than ever it's who she thinks it is. What she's uncertain about is heading down to talk to him. The thought of spending some time sitting next to him, just the two of them, on the bank of the river, maybe having a conversation that helps them get closer and know each other better than before, sends tingling butterflies ricocheting around her stomach.

She shakes her head and buries her face in one hand, trying to wipe a smile she's sure is singularly silly off her face.

_You can do this. Yamaguchi will be happy to see you, he seems to enjoy spending time with you too, right? Don't be like a lovestruck girl in some shojo manga, come on._

She takes her time as she walks down the slope, half hoping Yamaguchi will finish his phone call before she reaches him and half simply because she's enjoying the feeling of the springy grass under her feet. The air curling off the river is cool and fresh, alleviating the sticky heaviness of the sky before a storm, and she drinks it in in deep, heady lungfuls, thinking, not for the first time, how lucky she is to live in such a pretty corner of Japan.

The butterflies have grown milder by the time she touches the first tree trunks, subdued by the quiet peace that surrounds her, but they return in full force - stronger, harsher, no longer of pleasant anticipation - when she hears what Yamaguchi is actually saying, when she realizes he's looking down and to his right, and has no phone held to his ear.

"- do it anyway? Even if you say it won't help."

The soft question hangs in the air, and is met by an answer as flat as it is clipped.

"If you want."

She knows that voice well too, and now she realizes that Tsukishima is stretched out on the ground, glasses placed neatly to one side, arms folded under his head, gazing blankly at the darkening sky.

"Okay, Tsukki." Hitoka can  _hear_  the smile in his voice, the smile she never fails to admire for how endearingly, unselfconsciously encouraging it is.

And then he tips his head back, and starts to sing.

It's the first time she's ever heard him sing, and she can't help stepping closer to listen. The song, she recognizes vaguely, from having a Super-Sentai mad cousin who had insisted they watch it practically day in and day out whenever she spent a vacation there. And his voice - the way he sings is -

_Oh . . . my god._

It's beautiful.

. . . She really is in way too deep.

The way he sings is the way he laughs, bright and comforting and inviting. She listens for a minute or so, and then can't help taking another step forward, heart pattering faster than usual as she strains to listen.

_Wait, but I shouldn't - I'm intruding, I shouldn't be -_

It's just as she thinks that, though, that his glance happens to fall on her. He falters, stumbles over a word, briefly enough that Tsukishima doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are a little wider now, though, and he keeps glancing back at her as he works through the verse.

Hitoka can feel a confused blush rising to her cheeks. What should she do now? Back away and hope it won't be too embarrassing when she tries to explain tomorrow?

Yamaguchi's gaze becomes steady on her as he reaches the last chorus, and suddenly she knows that leaving isn't an option. It just feels too . . . cowardly, she thinks, is the word. But she can't lurk here in the shadows of the trees either (though she'd like to, oh, how she'd like to just stay here and listen to him sing the whole night). So she steps forward hesitantly, trying not to interrupt the song, trying not to disrupt the soothing atmosphere it's conjured around them.

Yamaguchi looks like he's on the verge of a smile, but his eyes flicker between her and Tsukishima with more than a hint of anxiety. Tsukishima looks startled when she steps out of the shadows, pushing himself up, his expression quickly settling into something smooth and a little hard.

Hitoka winces slightly, sliding her bag off her her shoulder as she sits down on Yamaguchi's other side. She knows that expression on Tsukishima's face - he's practiced it often enough, and what he hides behind it is never good. She saw it quite a lot at the training camp in Tokyo, last year, though she hadn't known him well enough to decipher it.

Now, she does. She thinks he likes her, in his own way, but she isn't entirely sure, primarily because she  _wants_ him to like her - in a different way from Yamaguchi. With Yamaguchi, it is that she has a quite hopeless crush on him, and so wonders if he thinks as well of her every gesture and action as she does of his, wonders if he pays as much attention to her as she does to him, wonders if he likes watching her as much as she likes watching him. She hopes - embarrassingly desperately - that it is so.

With Tsukishima, it is that she respects his intelligence, the consideration he hides under a sharp tongue and a cool gaze, and knowing that he respects her at least half as much as she respects him is something she would love to know and would not be able to bring herself to believe, for fear of making a fool of herself by wishful thinking. But she's talked to him quite a bit, spent more than a year around him, seen him sleepy in the morning and worn out in the evening, seen him trying to hide a smile when something goes wrong in the clubroom and flushed with furious victory at a perfect block, seen him exasperated when Hinata and Kageyama are more dense than usual and irritatedly off balance when Noya-san or Tanaka-san slap him cheerfully on the back.

So now, she is almost entirely certain she is intruding on something, interrupting something, she is the cause of the closed-off expression on Tsukishima's face. But she's only now sat down, she can't just get up and leave immediately.

_I'll stay for a bit and leave as soon as I can, so I won't be intruding. Ahh, I should have left as soon as I realized Yamaguchi-kun wasn't alone! Next time I'll be sure not to barge in like this._

Yamaguchi hits the last, high note with only the mildest trace of self consciousness, and Hitoka almost wants to applaud. His voice fades quickly, echoing across the water, and a heavy silence falls. On Yamaguchi's right, a little way away, Tsukishima now has his arms looped loosely around his knees, and is watching the river like he'd been watching the sky, earlier.

Hitoka's gaze settles on him for a long moment, then flickers back to her own hands, which she doesn't seem to be able to keep still. It is too painfully obvious she is out of place. She glances at Yamaguchi, and hesitates when she sees he's looking back at her too.

"I'm sorry," she says, softly, impulsively. "I'm intruding, aren't I?"

Yamaguchi looks a little surprised, and gives her a mild grimace that is tending towards a smile.

"Not really, Yachi-san," he replies, lowering his voice almost to a whisper so that Tsukishima does not hear. "It's just that - this has kind of, um, become a thing Tsukki and I do? Whenever one of us is worried or upset about something, we come and sit here."

"Oh, I see. Um . . . so something  _is_  worrying Tsukishima-kun? I'm sorry if I shouldn't be asking - if it's private - just, Ayane-chan also mentioned she thought something might be bothering him? So -"

Yamaguchi laughs softly, one hand settling at the back of his neck, fingers buried in his hair. "It's not like you shouldn't ask, Yachi-san . . . but right now he hasn't yet told me what's been worrying him."

Hitoka looks past Yamaguchi once more, and when she sees Tsukishima's bright-amber eyes gazing directly at her, cool and blank, she feels a jolt that seems to wake all the nervous butterflies once more. He looks like he's heard exactly what Yamaguchi said, and is almost daring her to try and ask him anything.

 _And he doesn't seem likely to say anything to Yamaguchi-kun either, since I'm here,_  she thinks despondently, once more considering how soon she can leave.

Yamaguchi interrupts that train of thought with a quiet exclamation.

"Oh! And, um, about the song - I'm sure you must have thought it was weird. That kind of became a thing we do, too. It's, um, soothing, I guess?"

"Soothing?"

"Mm, yeah, to both of us. Because of the familiarity, I suppose." He grins, bright and sheepish.

Hitoka valiantly ignores what that does to her heart rate, instead chancing another glance at Tsukishima. He's looking back over the water again, mouth compressed.

"A soothing song, huh . . ." she mumbles to herself, not meaning for Yamaguchi to hear, but he does. He looks back at Tsukishima, then gives her an interested look.

"Which song would you pick? If you had to?"

She blushes, now worried about her answer failing to meet his expectations.

"Um . . well . . ."

She quickly takes in Tsukishima's hunched shoulders, his tight hands, the line of his neck as his head droops forward a little; and the perfect song strikes her. Still she hesitates, and Yamaguchi sees that.

"I'd like to hear it, Yachi-san," he says, soft and encouraging. "The Abaranger song didn't work tonight, so if there's anything else that could . . ."

 _It didn't work because I'm here, Yamaguchi-kun!_  she thinks despairingly. But he's waiting, expectant - and Tsukishima is huddled, unnaturally silent, and she hates seeing him like that - so she takes a breath and opens her mouth.

" _K-kimi ga, akirameru toko, ukabanai kedo_. . ."

Her voice is shaking a little, uncertain, and she looks to Yamaguchi for his reaction immediately. Will he agree with her choice? Or will he think it's stupid, not at all likely to work, and think the worse of her for it? Will Tsukishima himself ignore it? Or even condemn it?

Too late she realizes that neither of them might even know the song, and nearly stops singing entirely at the mortification and dejection that sweeps over her. But then -

" . . .  _nani mo nai, nasekanai, tteiu hi mo, arun deshou,_ " Yamaguchi sings, eyes sparkling a little as he grins down at her. He makes a go-on motion with one hand, and Hitoka smiles back tentatively, a gentle glow of comfort stealing into her stomach, beginning to dissipate the tight knot of discomfort settled there.

" _Jinsei, ne ichidou no yo wa, douryoku no shoukan wo_  . . ."

They sing the whole thing together, gradually growing louder, more carefree, more absorbed in the cheerful notes and uplifting words. Yamaguchi is the first one to turn away and look up at the sky as he sings, and Hitoka follows suit. It's - freeing, and mildly dizzying, and rather more exhilarating, singing up into the infinite purple-dark velvet of the sky like they're the only two people on the planet. All background noises, all car horns, distant chatter of pedestrians, the occasional chittering of an early bat or the low croak of a late crow - they all fade to nothing. All there is, is her voice, and his, and the murmur of the river, and the stars glittering far above. It's with a strange sense of loss that Hitoka sings the last line, the last word, stretching it out as long as she reasonably can.

"  _. . . Datte atashi no herooo!_ "

Yamaguchi lapses into quiet giggles as soon as they're done, and it's so infectious, Hitoka can't help joining him. They trail off, though, when she abruptly remembers that the song was meant to help Tsukishima, meant to ease his mind, and she hastily leans forward to peer around Yamaguchi, daring to hope it might have helped a little but not too optimistic -

\- and is pleasantly surprised to see a faint, amused smile playing about his mouth as he looks at them, most of the tension gone from his frame.

"Was that supposed to be addressed to me?" he asks.

"Um." Yamaguchi looks sheepish, and his "I guess - maybe?" coincides with Hitoka's hasty "Not exactly!"

The three of them look at each other for a long moment. Then Tsukishima snorts, and Yamaguchi chokes on a guilty laugh, and Hitoka struggles to keep her insistent giggles down - which makes Tsukishima actually chuckle, which makes Yamaguchi slap a hand to his mouth to muffle his laughter, which - well, suffice it to say that the earlier silence does not return to the riverbank for some time.

When it does, it's hardly a minute or two before Tsukishima sighs, resting his hands behind him and leaning back. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than usual, without the usual lazily sardonic edge. It's something more genuine, more soft.

"Thank you, Yachi-san. That . . . helped."

Happiness tinged with pride swells in Hitoka's chest, and she's smiling in a way that's more hopeful than she means it to be. "I'm glad to hear that, Tsukishima-kun. I don't want to - you'd know best, of course, but - would talking help as well? It always helps me when I get what I'm worrying about out of my head and out in the air. And if I might be able to help in any way! Of course, if you'd rather it was only Yamaguchi-kun - I could leave, that's not a problem -"

Tsukishima's eyes are bright on her for one beat, two beats, three, as she falters. He shakes his head, slow and slight.

"I don't have a problem with you being here, Yachi-san. I . . . appreciate your offer to help, as well. But what's been worrying me isn't really - it's not a big deal. It's kind of trivial. It's kind of you to say you're willing to listen, but when you hear it you might think it's . . . it's not worth your time."

"I would never!" Hitoka exclaims, shuffling forward so she can see Tsukishima without Yamaguchi's knees getting in the way. "I would never, Tsukishima-kun. If it was important enough to make you come here in search of peace of mind, it certainly isn't trivial."

There's a flash of surprise in his eyes, and Yamaguchi is suddenly wearing a grin that's unusually delighted.

Tsukishima clears his throat, shifts his gaze. "I - thank you. It's not particularly - it's nothing major, it's just - "

There's a brief silence. Hitoka waits, with Yamaguchi, as Tsukishima tries to find and gather the words he needs. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair briefly, glances at them and looks away.

"It's silly, I just - I'm worried. About - about what high school students are usually worried about, college, career, building a life in general, I suppose. Like I said, it's not really major. It's just - I feel - directionless? Clueless? About the future." He huffs a laugh, short and humourless. "And I'm not really used to feeling like this, so - so uncertain of myself. And there are other things - I've been falling behind a little in classes, exams are next month and there are too many concepts I'm not entirely comfortable with, and -" He gives Hitoka an austere look that's only slightly softened by a barely discernible twitch at the corner of his mouth. "And, Yachi-san, Kabakura-san is quite frankly not making my life easy in the least."

Hitoka blushes, immediately resolving to remonstrate with Natsuki as soon as she possibly can.

"And . . . yeah, that's about it. I know it's not -"

"It is, though!" Hitoka says, leaning forward even more. "I - I know how that feels. The future, and worrying about a career and everything, and the expectations parents and people have of you, even though they might not mean to pressure you. To me, it's kind of like - a black hole? Pulling me in? And I can't make it slow down, or escape it, which, um, makes me feel really weak and unsure of myself. I really hate it when that happens."

"It feels like you're alone," Yamaguchi interjects quietly. "Alone, and off-balance, and trying to hold up a weight that's crushing you."

"And then, with everything else to worry about on a daily basis - tests and homework and projects and the cultural festival -"

"And the volleyball team."

Hitoka grins. "And the volleyball team. All of that piled on . . . I eventually end up feeling the universe is just trying to sabotage me."

Yamaguchi hums in agreement.

"Is that . . . accurate, Tsukishima-kun?"

Tsukishima looks at both of them, surprise and a hint of something else, something that Hitoka hasn't seen in him before, in his gaze. "That's . . . yeah. That's kind of exactly . . . yeah."

Hitoka nods. "I, um, definitely won't tell you how you should deal with it? I mean, it's not my place to . . . but for me, talking it out always helps. And, um -" She does her best to make her smile more encouraging than sheepish. "I'd - be willing to listen? If you need me to?"

Yamaguchi concurs with a hum again, softer than before. Hitoka can only see the part of the side of his face, given where she's seated and the fact that Yamaguchi is turned to face Tsukishima, but she sees that something else from before, something small and vulnerable and grateful, spark brighter as Tsukishima glances at Yamaguchi.

"Thank you," he says, ducking his head a little. " . . . Both of you. I will. If I need to."

Hitoka can't help grinning now, muted happiness and satisfaction singing through her, now that Tsukishima is okay and she did well and -

Yamaguchi turns to her, smiling his irrepressible smile in thanks.

\- and at the fact that he and Yamaguchi worked together to help him.

"By the way," Tsukishima says, resuming his customary poise, stretching his long legs out so that the infant waves in the clear little pool lap just short of his shoes. "I didn't know you were an anime fan, Yachi-san."

The moment pops like a fragile bubble, and like a bubble, it conjures up delighted smiles, leaving behind fading rainbows to hang in the air.

"Ah, right! I was surprised you knew that song, Yachi-san."

"H-hey, it's a nice song! And it's a nice anime, too! Shiori-chan recommended it to me, and she almost never watches anime, so I figured it had to be good . . ."

"So are you keeping up with it? Did you see the latest episode?"

"Oh my god, I did! It was so cool when, um, um, that part? When Todoroki and Izuku -"

"Oh, yes yes yes, he froze like half the stadium, right?"

"Yes! And Izuku, oh my god, I couldn't even watch, he was breaking his hands  _over and over again_ , does he have no sense of self preservation?!"

Yamaguchi laughs, and a quiet chuckle from Tsukishima floats over his shoulder to reach her.

"I really don't think he does," Yamaguchi grins. "So who's your favourite character?"

"I can't choose one! I mean, they're all so cool in their own way."

"I know, right? For me, I think it'd be maybe Jiro? She's really cool! Though she doesn't get much of the focus. Tsuyu is amazing too. Or maybe Todoroki . . . what about you, Tsukki?"

Tsukishima rests his chin on his knees. "Well, Bakugo is always entertaining to watch -"

Hitoka and Yamaguchi laugh together, voices floating out over the water.

" - but I think I'd say Uraraka."

"Uraraka?" Hitoka echoes, surprised. Uraraka is not the character she'd have pictured Tsukishima admiring.

"Ahh, yes!" Yamaguchi exclaims. "She's so awesome! Her fight with Bakugo was so incredible, it was my favourite part of the sports festival!" He glances at her, looking mischievous. "She kind of reminds me of you, Yachi-san. Right, Tsukki?"

Tsukishima nods, mouth quirking up. "She does, yes."

"Hahh?! Me?" Hitoka's hands flutter agitatedly. "I'm not even remotely like her!"

"Of course you are! Really nice, and supportive, and fun to be around, and encouraging, and cu-" Yamaguchi chokes and falters, colour creeping up his cheeks. "C-comfortable with helping people out! Um!"

Hitoka fights the urge to bury her face in her hands, entirely sure it's red enough to be seen from across the river. Tsukishima sighs and seems to be stopping himself from rolling his eyes with considerable difficulty.

The moment passes quickly, thankfully, and Hitoka loses track of how long they sit there together. At one point, Yamaguchi somehow convinces them to put their feet in the little pool, despite the fact that all manner of crawling or slimy things are probably floating or hatching in it, and that inevitably progresses to a splash fight that Tsukishima manages to resist joining for all of two minutes. Yamaguchi, Hitoka reflects as she dodges a particularly accurate shower with a laughing yelp, is surprisingly unscrupulous about using Tsukishima's competitive nature against him. She also realizes that Tsukishima, when he's truly uninhibited, can be just as childish as Hinata or Kageyama at their worst.

 _I'm - I'm kind of honoured he's letting me see that,_  she thinks joyfully, doubling over laughing when Tsukishima triumphantly dumps a handful of slimy moss on Yamaguchi's head and Yamaguchi yelps frantically as his slides down the back of his shirt.

It's only when Yamaguchi's mother calls, asking where he is, that they realise the time. Hitoka gets to her feet first and automatically holds a hand out to pull Yamaguchi up before she can think the better of it. But he takes it, easily negotiating the balance between giving her too little of his weight and making her making her take too much of it, and (kindly, Hitoka thinks, a little flustered) does not comment on the absurdity of her offering to pull to his feet a boy who is a good foot taller than her.

They walk up the slope together, she and Yamaguchi making a game of hopping between shadows of the scudding clouds that promise a heavy shower. It's like something has been tugged loose inside her, and playfulness and mild giddiness and a tendency to giggle too often have all come spilling out, infecting her as well as the other two.

She really, really likes it.

They part at the second junction down the river road, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima turning left while she continues ahead. She waves, and they wave back, Tsukishima politely, Yamaguchi enthusiastically, before turning away to head home. As she heads to her own bus stop, she has the memory of Tsukishima's tiny smile, (quiet and soft edged, a smile even Yamaguchi only gets to see once in a blue moon, faintly gilded in the late evening light as his stress melted away) and the memory of Yamaguchi's hand in hers (warm and careful with a pair of smiling eyes looking up at her as she pulled him to his feet) to kindle a deep, settled content in her stomach.

And she thinks, as she settles on the bench to wait, smiling as she rests her damp cheek on her school bag, that she would like nothing more than to spend some time down by the river with them again.

⸸

_Three days later_

_Create new group?_

_**Yes** _

_Please choose more than one member to add to the new group_

_**Tsukishima Kei, Yachi Hitoka** _

_Please enter a name for the new group_

_**The Abarangers!** _

_Would you like to enter nicknames for the members?_

_**Yes** _

_Tsukishima Kei -_ _**Blue Ranger** _

_Yachi Hitoka -_ _**Yellow Ranger** _

_Yamaguchi Tadashi -_ _**Red Ranger** _

_Thank you for creating a new group! You're ready to chat now!_

⸶⸷ ⸶⸷ ⸶⸷ ⸶⸷ ⸶⸷

_Blue Ranger - 18:36 : are you serious yamaguchi_

 

_Red Ranger - 18:36 : ^.^_

 

_Blue Ranger - 18:39 : why are you the red ranger anyway_

 

_Red Ranger - 18:40 : bcuz you don't like the red ranger tsukki_

_Red Ranger - 18:41 : you say he gets too much attention_

 

_Blue Ranger - 18:42 : ugh_

 

_Yellow Ranger - 18:46 : Hi! :3 :3 :3_

 

Yamaguchi grins at his phone as he taps out a reply.

He has a feeling this is going to work out really well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 IS FINALLY CAUGHT UP WITH FFNET NOW YAYYY  
> MY READERS WILL HAVE TO WAIT AGES NOW FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER BOO  
> (My Tumblr has adorable extra content, do head over there if you'd like something to tide you over! YaelaTheWordsmith and yaelaswritingspace have all of it because I'm horrible at remembering to put the stuff on the sideblog and not the main one. But if you search for the tag 'yaelashaikyuuwriting' you should get everything.)  
> (Back to the note now)  
> Tsukki definitely has a thing for nice sweet pure people like Yams and Yachi, they melt his stony heart. You can't tell me any different.  
> The river is actually canon! It's not really shown, I don't think, but before Asahi comes back for the match with the Neighbourhood Association he's shown sitting on the grassy bank. I didn't even realize that till I was halfway through the story.  
> Also I realize that in Japan, like in India, you're six in first grade, seven in second grade, etc etc, but the Haikyuu Wiki gives their ages as a year older? Like the first years are all sixteen and not fifteen, though they're in tenth grade. I went with those ages.  
> And I know the Haikyuu manga is supposed to start in 2012 so no way they'd be watching the sports festival arc in the BNHA anime, which came out in 2017, in their second year, but. Allow me my indulgence please.  
> Have I always thought the Red Ranger is severely overrated? Yes, yes indeed.  
> (He's still overrated btw)  
> (Also why is the Red Ranger always the leader and always male, that's what bugged me about him the most)  
> (Anyway)  
> Yams and Tsukki's dynamic is a bit different with Yachi, and I struggled a bit to put it down. Let me know how it struck you!
> 
> (And y'all knew Akiteru's thing was coming, didn't you)  
> (Did it break your heart)  
> (If yes, then I consider my mission complete)  
> (Tsukki's dad was, uh . . . just cuz no one has ever seen him around. So.)  
> (And do not underestimate the crippling fear of a student facing an uncertain future, it is not fun at all)
> 
> As always, I love hearing what you thought, so don't hesitate to give me any and all feedback!


	10. What Makes A Hero - Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion at the tail end of the next year, before Ennoshita, Narita, Kinoshita, Tanaka, and Noya graduate. It should be simple enough, fun enough, nothing to worry anyone.
> 
> Until it really, really isn't.
> 
> In which Natsu gets carried around a lot, Tadashi acts without thinking, and Tsukki screams frightened curses into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I’m BACK, FINALLY
> 
> Okay so I was not entirely inactive, I did write and post several oneshots on my Tumblr. However there was no actual chapter for which I humbly apologise, but. I ended up at college, so ^.^ I’m getting into a groove though, and I have a week’s break coming up, so expect more soon!
> 
> (Not too soon though)
> 
> (But I don’t have to tell you that)
> 
> Aaaanyway
> 
> (Profanity alert for this chapter, but nothing too bad.)
> 
> This is in a slightly different style, I hope it isn’t too jarring.  Also there’s a lot I want to explore about the Karasuno team’s sibling dynamics, and more new first year dynamics, but I reallyyyy wanted to get this drama heavy thing up first. Oneshots will happen!
> 
> Eventually!
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy ^.^

The place - a tiny _izakaya_ on a corner where a winding lane meets the main road. It’s in the Miyagi Prefecture, of course, on the lower slopes of a mountain that also houses Karasuno High. The time - an evening in late February, when the bite of winter is just beginning to fade for good. This particular _izakaya_ is generally quite quiet, but disgruntled neighbours are currently debating whether it’s worth going down to speak to the owner about the loud laughter and the bursts of yelling disturbing their peace.

At this particular moment, one of the few female people there - and the only person under sixteen - is the one yelling the loudest.

“Aki-nii!” Hinata Natsu shouts, beaming in delighted surprise as the door of the _izakaya_ slides open. She wriggles out of Sugawara’s lap, abandoning Azumane Asahi’s hair without a second thought, and runs straight into Tsukishima Akiteru’s waiting arms.

“Natsu-chan!” Akiteru mimics, voice high and laughing, hoisting her up high after shrugging out of his long coat. “Look at you, you’ve gotten so much bigger than last time I saw you!”

“I’m in middle school now!” she proclaims proudly, her voice nearly drowned out by the greetings the rest of Karasuno call out. Akiteru smiles in acknowledgement of her statement, giving the rest of the room a cheery wave.

“Yo, Akiteru!” Tanaka Saeko raises her mug of beer, cheeks already unnaturally flushed. Both Asahi and Ennoshita Chikara wince at the volume of her voice, and inch away gingerly. “You here to pick up your ‘lil brother?”

Tsukishima Kei gives her a vaguely irritated glance, and Akiteru laughs, settling Natsu back down to stand on top of his feet. “Well, yes, but I thought I might catch up with the team for a bit before that. It’s only seven thirty, right?”

“Awesome!” Saeko grins, sharp and wide and disquieting. “I ordered a bit too much to drink. You’ll help me finish it, right?”

“ . . . well, if Kei could drive I wouldn’t have a problem with it, but he’s not eighteen yet, so I don’t think it’s the best idea - “

“Come on, I know you can hold your beer enough to join me for a couple of drinks! Isn’t that right, Natsu-chan?”

“Uh . . . sure, Saeko-nee!”

Akiteru shakes his head, fighting back his smile, and begins to walk Natsu back to the table, clasping her small hands lightly in his. “One drink only this time, Tanaka-san.”

Saeko winks. “Sure thing, onii-chan!”

A table over, Tanaka Ryuunosuke buries his face in one hand, trying to pretend he’s heard nothing, and Yamaguchi Tadashi pats his shoulder sympathetically. Narita Kazuhito and Nishinoya Yuu are engaged in building a fragile tower out of toothpicks at the same table, and have looked at nothing else for the past twenty minutes.

Sugawara Koushi shifts to join Sawamura Daichi’s conversation with the first years. They had been apprehensive when being introduced, having heard far too much about the strict former captain from the irreverent third years; but all it took was Sawamura’s pleasant smile and five minutes of easy conversation for the ice to vanish. At present, Serizawa is enthusiastically describing the game plan the team has come up with for their next match, Sawamura nodding along thoughtfully while Akiyama and Suzuki listen in some amusement. Akiteru returns with Natsu to the table where Yachi Hitoka, Ennoshita, Asahi and Yamaguchi are sitting, allowing her to continue her attempts at braiding Asahi’s hair while he engages in pleasant conversation with Ennoshita about his prospects for the next year.

It’s a warm atmosphere, hazy and loud and bright with noise. They’re the only customers, having visited enough to be able to convince the dour old lady who runs it to keep it empty for them for just one night.

“It’s a reunion!” Nishinoya had said happily, grinning his brilliant grin. “Our old senpais are visiting!”

“They’d like to meet up for a night before we graduate,” Ennoshita had said politely. “We’d be very grateful if you could allow us the use of your place for four hours or so.”

She had snorted derisively. “And of course you couldn’t find any other place to barge into than my rickety old home.”

Serizawa and Hinata had stepped up then, pouting pleadingly, eyes bright.

“But your _yakitori_ is the best in Miyagi, obaasan!”

“The best in Japan!”

“The best in the world!”

“So is your _edamame_!”

“And your -”

She had cut them off with a piercing glare, the twitch at the corner of her mouth barely perceptible. “Enough of your flattery. I expect 500 yen extra, you hear? Don’t tell me you lot won’t break any dishes, because I know for a fact you will.”

They’d all beamed, bowed deeply, and the last thing she yelled after them as they ducked out of the door was, “And Ryuu-boy, if that sister of yours turns up tell her I’m not selling her _any_ alcohol! I still remember what happened last time!”

But Saeko can be just as irresistible as Hinata’s wide brown eyes when she wants to be, and so she’s currently downing her third mug of beer easily while chatting with Hinata Shouyo, Kageyama Tobio and Kinoshita Hisashi, who grins shyly with cheeks almost as pink as hers whenever she addresses a remark to him.

They’ve been here since five, mouths sticky from popsicles eaten on the road but with zero hesitation in attacking the food Kimura-obaasan had grudgingly begun to set out. Asahi had accompanied them, his shift at Shimada Mart having ended at four thirty. Sawamura had made it by five thirty, and Sugawara a little after that, panting apologies for his tardiness. Shimizu Kiyoko had been unable to make it, and Takeda Ittetsu and Ukai Keishin had refused to come, Takeda gently, Ukai flatly.

“You boys should take the time out for yourselves,” Takeda had said with his soft smile. “You won’t want a couple of teachers hanging around you.”

Ukai had snorted. “Plus there’s no way we’re going to waste our evening babysitting you lot. You’ll probably coerce me into paying for whatever you break.”

Takeda had winced, but hadn’t disagreed. “We’re grateful for the invitation though, aren’t we, Ukai-kun?”

Another snort was all the answer the team had received.

So it's just them, along with Saeko and Natsu, who had clamoured so hard and so persistently to be brought along that her exasperated brother finally gave in, grumbling the whole while about how the team would turn her head with how they all fussed about her. Even Kageyama, in his own way - the whole evening, he’s been saving the best tidbits for her and watching her inhale them with a quiet smile that somehow resembles her own playful grin.

Kimura-obaasan seems to have finally resigned herself to the noise. There’s a spike, a shout of laughter when Tanaka Ryuu cracks the fifteenth ridiculous joke of the evening, enough to make the little toothpick tower come tumbling down. Chopsticks clatter against ceramic bowls, and there’s a yelp as Nishinoya knocks one off the table and just manages to catch it in time, an apologetic grimace when Sawamura gives him a look, a scowl from Tsukishima Kei, whose thigh Nishinoya jammed his elbow into in the process. Akiteru finally moves to sit next to Saeko, sighing quietly at the brimming mug she hands him. Okumura has drowned out the earlier conversation with Sugawara and Sawamura by happily recounting the various ways Kageyama helps him with practice. Kageyama’s ears are glowing red, but he pretends not to hear, instead firmly trying to focus on Hinata’s debate with Tanaka Saeko about whether bikes are cooler than helicopters. Azumane seems to have stepped outside, Narita shifts to join the conversation with Saeko, and Akiyama moves to sit next to Yamaguchi, returning Natsu’s cheery greeting with a pleased smile.

Time wears on, the minutes slipping past, and conversation sputters and skips and gushes, thrumming and loud with camaraderie. The food begins to dwindle, and Kimura-obaasan disappears with a sour look to fetch more. Akiteru is reasonably tipsy by now - though not as much as Saeko - and Yamaguchi, standing by the counter to ferry the arriving food back to the still hungry team, seems to be the only one noticing the two of them stepping out, Natsu clutching their hands.

He frowns a little, unconsciously, as the door closes.

 

**XXX**

 

“Um, Hinata - “ Tadashi looks around, searching for a mop of bright hair, but Hinata is nowhere to be seen.

“He went to the toilet,” Kageyama grunts, overhearing. “Ate something that disagreed with him or something.”

“Disagreed with him so fast?” Tadashi says wryly. “Okay, just - when he comes back, if I’m not here, let him know that Saeko-san and Akiteru-nii took Natsu outside for a bit.”

“Sure.” Kageyama nods absently and turns back to his bowl. Tadashi carries the heavy tray to the largest table and sets it down with a huff, grabbing what he wants before the others can get there. He ducks out of the press, wondering when Hinata will be back.

The minutes trickle by, however, and Hinata shows no sign of reappearing. It’s silly, Tadashi knows - both Saeko and Akiteru are adults who are entirely capable of handling themselves, and Natsu too - but he can’t help beginning to worry. They weren’t exactly sober, after all . . .

He gets to his feet, carefully stepping around the tables, and makes his way to the door. It can’t hurt to check, can it?

He passes by Tsukki on the way, who is leaning against the wall with headphones firmly clamped around his ears. He catches sight of Tadashi, and raises an eyebrow.

“Just getting some air,” Tadashi tells him, and Tsukki doesn’t look impressed, but he nods anyway. Tadashi gets his coat and scarf down from the shelf, shoves his hands into his mittens, and steps outside.

The wind isn’t too strong, thankfully, but he still recoils as the cold nips at his exposed cheeks. He rubs his hands across his ears, his breath puffing out in quiet clouds, and looks for the three truants.

They’re on the other side of the zebra crossing, under the streetlight on the corner, their laughter clear and delighted in the crisp air. Natsu’s hands are clasped in Saeko’s, her boots are held by Akiteru, and they’re swinging her sideways in large arcs that make her squeal and squirm and giggle that she’s “- going to _fall_ Aki-nii, Saeko-nee, put me _down_ before I - !”

They swing her higher than ever, and she catches her breath on a shriek of laughter. Akiteru lets go at the highest point, and Saeko lets her slip up through her hands, catching her effortlessly as she comes down.

“Wasn’t that fun, little fox?” Saeko asks, grinning.

Natsu is still breathless, panting, but as soon as she can form words she cries, “Again!”

Tadashi tucks his hands into his pockets contentedly, unable to refrain from smiling as he watches Akiteru growl playfully and snatch Natsu up again. _I was silly to have worried, after all  . . ._

“They look like they’re having fun, don’t they?”

He looks around, startled, to see Asahi standing a little way away from him, hands deep in his pockets, watching the trio as well. The lamplight gleams in his eyes, and his smile is something gentle, and joyous, and wistful.

“Asahi-san! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you . . . Um, yes, they do look like they’re having a lot of fun. I’ve never seen Natsu-chan smile that much.”

Asahi hums. “I’ve never seen Saeko-san smile that much. She seems like she’d be a good mother, don’t you think?”

Tadashi looks back across the road, where Saeko is now kneeling, helping Natsu tug a mitten back into place, playfully pulling her hood down over her face when she’s done, dodging Natsu’s tiny kick with a loud laugh.

“Well . . . I think so too, I guess? But I can’t help feeling like her kid would be learning to ride a motorbike way too early.”

Asahi lets out a quiet bark of laughter. “That’s a good point.”

“And Akiteru-nii would be a worried dad, running behind in case the kid falls off.”

Asahi laughs again, turning to face Tadashi fully this time. “Definitely, yes. If they got married, that would be exactly how things would go.”

“That might be true, Asahi-san,” an acid voice says, “but I have absolutely no desire to have Tanaka-san as a brother-in-law, so please refrain from putting that image into my head.”

Asahi darts a mischievous look at Tadashi, who bites his lip in a valiant attempt to refrain from smiling as Tsukki steps up to stand between them.

“Sorry, Tsukishima, didn’t realize you were there.”

“Yeah, well. It was getting really noisy.” Tsukki glances briefly across the road before pulling out his phone, scrolling through an open playlist with practiced ease. Just before he shifts the headphones back over his ears, Tadashi catches a murmur from him, brief and matter-of-fact and carried on a low breath. “You worried for nothing, idiot.”

The corners of Tadashi’s mouth tug upwards despite himself. “I know,” he replies just as softly, not bothering to turn. “Sorry, Tsukki.”

There’s a soft huff, a fading rush of air warm and quickly cooling against his jaw, before Tsukki steps back to lean against the wall, eyes drifting closed. There’s a quiet surge in Tadashi’s chest, something like the surge he used to feel when he was far younger; a gently joyous shock at knowing that Tsukki, so cool in so many ways, cares for and notices and trusts _him._  But this differs somewhat, what he feels now.

Tadashi absently watches Natsu being hoisted up to sit on Akiteru’s shoulders, mulling the question over. This is more . . .complacent? Assured? It has . . . something to do with the fact that Tsukki can now talk to Narita about music and to Ennoshita about philosophy, can lose himself in teaching Suzuki what he learned from Kuroo, can absently ruffle Serizawa’s hair or exchange a nod with Kageyama; something to do with the fact that at Karasuno he’s found friends thrust upon him in such a way that he had no choice but to accept, but in accepting -

Tadashi snorts to himself, embarrassed and amused, as he gets it. It’s a complacency that though Tsukki is learning to open up, though the glass in his eyes is finally receding for good, Tadashi is still the only one who knew him before the glass was there. Still the only one who can yell at Tsukki, still the only one who can read his tight shoulders and thin lips and know to say ‘We’re going to win, aren’t we?’ so Tsukki can snort and reply ‘Of course’. And if that isn’t the most foolish thing . . .

Akiteru steps on to the zebra crossing when the light changes - solemnly, but with his eyes alive with laughter, Natsu clutching at his sandy hair in a way that looks quite painful. Saeko marches ahead of them, holding up an umbrella in mock salute. They proceed across the road with all the attempted dignity of a child royal, looking like nothing more than a trio of colourful penguins, bundled up in bright scarves and jackets as they are.

_. . . I thought I got over this, defining myself by what I am to Tsukki. I know I shouldn’t, is it just force of habit?_

Asahi laughs softly as they reach the pavement, reaching out, and Natsu reaches back eagerly, allowing him to settle her on his broad shoulders. Akiteru gives her up with good grace, and they continue the game, the procession moving back across the road.

Tadashi sighs, ruffles his hair a little fretfully. All these silly thoughts, ridiculous feelings . . . _Wanting to be of use is one thing, but when I end up feeling triumphant that nobody knows him like me - of course other people probably will in the future, and what will I do then? Whine about it? Sulk? Come on, Tadashi, get it together -_

Natsu yelps as Asahi’s strong hands slip under her armpits, tugging her upwards, so that her sturdy little boots are planted on his shoulders. She clutches at his hands desperately, and he holds them up high above his head for her to hold on to.

Tadashi sighs again, calmer than before, and he joins Tsukki against the wall. It’s hard to stay stuck in a knot of censorious thoughts - it’s hard to do anything but grin in quiet delight - when the four of them are so clearly having so much fun, eyes bright and smiles wide, laughter ringing out again and again.

Asahi brings Natsu back to their side of the road, having crossed it twice, and hands her back to Akiteru, whose shoulders she settles on with a sigh of relief not quite subtle enough to escape notice. Asahi makes a wry face - or tries to, at least, but he’s still grinning widely.

“I’ve probably put her off heights for life, haven’t I?”

Tadashi snorts softly. “Natsu-chan is tougher than that, Asahi-san.”

Asahi hums in quiet agreement, absently retying his hair as he watches them cross again.

The door swings open, spilling a burst of warm light and laughter into the night air, and Yachi steps out, fuzzy blue hat jammed down adorably over her ears, hands on her cheeks to keep them warm, nose wrinkled just a little. Tadashi feels his heart leap into his throat and settle down in his stomach, and suddenly his hands are too large, limbs too long, his expression surely terribly odd.

Tsukki catches his eye, clearly thinking something sardonic, and then Tadashi is blushing as well before he turns away, giving Yachi a quick wave and looking back over the road. He huffs, reaching up to rub his ears again. _Thanks for that, Tsukki._

“Oh, you’re all out here!” She practically skips to Tadashi’s side, beaming. Tadashi can almost feel the content joy radiating off of her.”I was wondering where you got to. Why aren’t you in the warm?”

“Wanted a minute of peace,” Tsukki mumbles. Asahi gives him an amused glance as he says, “I had to take a call, and I thought it would be nice to stay out for a while.”

Yachi’s wide, friendly gaze turns to Tadashi, and he has to cough before he can reply. “I, uh . . . well, Akiteru-nii and Saeko-nee are kind of drunk, so when they dragged Natsu out here I thought it might be a good idea to keep an eye on them. Um, but don’t tell them that!”

Yachi giggles like silvery windchimes, holding a finger to her mouth. “They won’t hear it from me, Yamaguchi-kun!”

 _God, she’s cute._ Tadashi smiles wonkily and clears his throat, looking away. It’s hardly a new thought, but it’s grown evermore insistent over the past year. It doesn’t help that, in another two minutes, Natsu has enthusiastically invited Yachi to join the procession, and she’s marching with mock solemnity, blond hair glowing dull and smooth under the streetlights, eyes dancing as she struggles to keep her mouth prim.

It honestly is too cute for words. They return to the _izakaya’s_ side, flushed and giggling, and then Natsu decrees that Akiteru has to wear Saeko’s heels when they cross this time. Akiteru doesn’t even look surprised, just groans in mock dismay as Natsu’s excited feet drum on his chest. Saeko switches shoes with him, easily slipping her feet into his sneakers while he gingerly stuffs his own into her slim red shoes.

His heels are sticking out, and he wobbles precariously as he tries to find his balance. Asahi takes half a step forward, careful eyes on Natsu, but Akiteru manages to stand in a few moments, even shuffling forward a little. Navigating the step down from the sidewalk to the road is a bit of a hurdle, but he manages it, Natsu, Saeko and Yachi all calling out cheerful encouragement.

The procession begins again, though much slower on Akiteru’s part. Yachi is first to the other sidewalk, quickly turning to watch with a grin. Saeko is next, though Akiteru’s too-big sneakers cause her to trip - she has to catch herself on the rough pavement, scratching her hands. She waves off all concern, however, and settles herself on the sidewalk, heedless of the dirt getting onto the seat of her jeans, her grin catlike and cheeks flushed with cold and alcohol as she watches.

Tadashi hopes the light stays red a little longer than usual, because at the rate Akiteru is going it will take him quite a bit of time to reach the other side. He perseveres heroically, however, and the road is empty - has been for quite some time, and is likely to remain so for a while longer. It’s a rather narrow road, unfrequented by vehicles, only by pedestrians who choose to sample the goods at the small shops here rather than at larger supermarkets. There aren’t more than one or two of them around, though, so Akiteru probably has enough time to make it before someone nosey happens across them and yells at them for playing around on the road.

This thought, however, is rapidly reversed when Akiteru takes a misstep, right heel twisting under him, and one foot ends up sunk into the top of a manhole. He makes a quiet, pained sound, and Natsu peers down.

“Are you okay, Aki-nii?”

“Uh . . .” Akiteru carefully tries to tug his foot out, but stops short, wincing. “I think I’ll need to set you down, Natsu.”

“Of course, yes - “ She nearly scrambles down on her own, face pinched in concern. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“ . . . Probably.” Akiteru gets down on one knee and kicks the shoe off his left foot, bracing himself on the road as he tries to pull his leg up.

“Don’t just yank it out, nii-san,” a voice calls out, and Tsukki steps to the edge of the pavement, frowning.

“Yes, Kei, I know.” Akiteru’s mouth is pursed. “I’m not stupid.”

“Oy, Akiteru, don’t lose my shoe!” Saeko gets to her feet, looking a little dizzy but steady enough. “If you - “

A light flashes across them all, white and blinding, and there’s the rumble of a vehicle heading downhill, approaching them. They all turn to look up the road, and there’s a full three seconds of silence before Tadashi’s heart jumps into his throat.

“Get _out_ , nii-chan!” Tsukki barks, all laziness gone from his voice, eyes sharp and hard.

“I _know,_ I -” Akiteru is struggling, biting his lip through the pain as he yanks hard.

“Aki-nii - “ Natsu’s voice is shrill and worried, small hands reaching out to tug Akiteru’s leg upwards.

Akiteru’s head whips up, and he gives her a brief, horrified look before he’s struggling to his feet, hissing as his bruised ankle scrapes against the side of the hole.

“Wha-” Natsu is scooped up ruthlessly, dangling from Akiteru’s hands like a kitten from her mother’s mouth.

“Saeko!” Akiteru yells, and Saeko, who has had one hand over her mouth till now in blank horror, snaps out of it. “Catch her!”

Tadashi’s breath catches in his chest, and Saeko barely has time to nod before a shrieking Natsu is flung into the air. She does land in Saeko’s arms, thankfully, but the impact knocks Saeko off balance and she lands hard on the pavement, Natsu’s weight squarely on her chest.

Tadashi vaguely registers Yachi running over and sinking down beside them, but all he can really focus on is Akiteru struggling to get his foot out, yanking more harshly each time, but it’s not _working_ , his leg isn’t budging in the slightest -

“Get the shoe off!” Asahi yells, and Tadashi knows how scared he is from how he’s thrown his usual soft tone to the winds. His shout damn near echoes off the buildings.

“Can’t - stuck - “ Akiteru gasps, breathless, frightened.

Tsukki snarls, short and vicious enough to send another spike of fear through Tadashi. “Keep trying,” he shouts, hastily pulling his phone out. Within a second, he’s flicked the flashlight on and is waving frantically at the truck.

Asahi does the same, and on the other side Yachi does it too, but all Tadashi can do is stare in terror at Akiteru’s struggling figure, stark in the intensifying light, shadow growing ever longer behind him as the truck approaches, as it seems to _speed up_ instead of slowing down even though the light is _red,_  is the driver drunk?!

_Slow down slow down slow down no no no no no slow DOWN -_

But it doesn’t, it doesn’t, and Tadashi is almost sick from how hard his heart is hammering in his chest but he can’t look away, and he can imagine how the truck will hit Akiteru, how his body will crumple, he nearly retches into his mouth but he still can’t look away and the truck still isn’t slowing down -

“At least fucking swerve, you son of a bitch!” Tsukki roars, and Tadashi has never, ever heard him sound so furious and so scared. “Come _on_!”

It won’t, Tadashi knows it won’t, he can feel it in his goddamn bones that the six of them will watch Tsukishima Akiteru get horribly hurt, perhaps even - even watch him _die_ , if someone doesn’t do _something_ -

 _Then do it!_ his mind screams.

The light changes to green.

“Is it really going faster?!” Asahi sounds utterly frantic.

“Fuck, if it wasn’t before, it sure as hell is now - nii-san, fucking _hurry!_ ”

“I’m _trying_ , I can’t - the shoe is almost - but -” Akiteru is really panicking, now, Tadashi can see it. His movements are more sporadic, less focused.

“Akiteru, come on!” Saeko shrieks from across the road.

“Akiteru-nii!” Yachi and Natsu cry out together.

“Nii - ” Tsukki chokes on the words, on his terror.

_Do something! Anything!_

And Tadashi moves, hurling himself across the street.

He’d become pretty fast in junior high, when he started to grow into his too-long legs and learn to make them work with him instead of against him - definitely faster than Tsukki, who had long strides but never seemed to muster the energy to move his legs fast enough. It’s not much use for the short distances on the court, but when he has a few moments to hit his stride he knows he’s pretty damn fast.

Which is why it hurts like hell when he slams into Akiteru without slackening one bit. It’s all elbows and knees and ribs clacking together painfully, but there’s only one horrible moment of uncertainty before they’re moving, _both_ of them are moving -

_Oh thank god, thank god, we made it -_

They stumble to the pavement, momentum moving them too fast, too unsteady, and Akiteru trips like Saeko earlier, ending up sprawling on the ground a little bit away. Tadashi is still upright, though, chest heaving and blood thrumming from sheer adrenaline. He looks up and happens to meet Yachi’s eyes. Her hands are over her mouth, but he can see a small bubble of relief rapidly growing larger in her terrified eyes.

He’s just beginning to smile back when something _heavy_ crashes into his back, sending him flying forward, and then his head slams into something hard and everything goes black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah . . .
> 
> That happened.
> 
> (I’m so sorry Yams I love you so much)
> 
> Natsu is ten and Shouyo is seventeen
> 
> I know they probably wouldn’t take Natsu to a pub but I didn’t know what else to call a place like the place they went to eat at at the end of Season 1. If you know, do tell me!
> 
> How was the style? Weird? Cool? Okay? Tell me what you thought! :3


	11. What Makes A Hero - Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirens, and tears, and fear in the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Tsukki’s POV written in June. Yes, that’s how long I’ve been planning this. I’m so sorry, my children.

Kei -

\- doesn’t move.

Time thickens, curdles, slows to flow like slow honey. The truck is suddenly drifting at the leisurely pace of an iceberg, the cab at 120 degrees to the cargo hold as it curves around the corner. The last he saw of the others, before the truck obscured them, isolated him with Asahi-san on this side of the road, is imprinted on his mind like a particularly vivid photograph. Akiteru’s shoulder hadn’t hit the pavement yet. Natsu’s face had been contorted into the furious, helpless expression of a child trying not to cry. Saeko-san’s eyes had been wide with shock, wider than Kei has ever seen them.

He hadn’t been able to see Yachi, obscured behind the body of the truck.

He’d only been able to see Yamaguchi’s back. His outstretched arms.

And then -

There’s horror welling up, in a part of his heart he has never been more conscious of than now. A part that usually only forces itself onto his awareness when he’s down by the river.

With Yamaguchi.

_His back -_

_His outstretched arms-_

_And then -_

There’s horror, and fear, and shock, and a terrible uncertainty, all welling up and twisted together in a debilitating mess. He heard it. He heard the _thump_ when the truck hit _something_ , soft and sick and almost unheard under the muted roar of the truck’s engine.

Almost.

He knows it wasn’t Akiteru. He saw Akiteru pushed onto the pavement -

\- _by those freckled, long-fingered hands, like pale spiders. They’ve always struck him as pale spiders. When Yamaguchi gestures in conversation, when he handles a pen, when he was trying to learn to play the guitar, those months in junior high. Always pale, freckled spiders -_

\- and he doesn’t think any part of the van mounted the pavement. So it wasn’t Akiteru.

Therefore, it must have been Yamaguchi.

That the truck hit.

There’s . . . still a detachment. The fact of what happened doesn’t seem to have hit him entirely as yet - and he knows this because he’s watching his own mind, and his mind is saying, _Ah, this is the dramatic part of an anime, or a movie, or a story, where I would dash across the road once the truck drifts by - god, will it ever clear the corner? - and I would yell frantically. ‘Nii-chan! Yamaguchi!’. Or, more probably, ‘Tadashi!’ Yeah, it would be Tadashi, not Yamaguchi, so the audience realises how shaken I am, even though I’ve never used his first name in my goddamn life. I would stop by nii-chan’s side for a moment, he’d gasp out, ‘I’m fine! Yamaguchi . . .!’ and I’d turn to Yamaguchi, and he’d be -_

Blood.

_\- yeah, bleeding, maybe unconscious. And I’d do something incredibly stupid like pull him into my arms or something, when you should never move someone with a possible concussion -_

Kei blinks.

The truck has finally cleared the corner. And Kei can see, now, he can see all of them, and he can see that Yamaguchi is crumpled on the sidewalk.

Which is stained red.

The cobweb-thin dam of detachment ruptures, edges fluttering helplessly in the blast of a rush of feelings he can’t identify - everything from before, all the shock and fear and terror but _more_ , a thousand times more intense and hurtful. He can’t control them, can’t defend himself, he can only endure the impact as they slam into him again and again, turning his blood cold and his thoughts red-hot and burning.

Asahi-san is already moving forward, mouth open, eyebrows together and pinched, eyes hurt and horrified and worried as he steps onto the zebra crossing.

 _The heroic dash across the road,_ Kei thinks vaguely, in the small corner of his mind that has managed to avoid the tempest raging within him. _Asahi-san took my role._

It is that part of him that forces him to turn. To look down the road. To etch each number and letter on the dirty license plate deep into his mind, as deep as he can manage.

Then that part lets go and is swept away, and Kei, himself, finally free, Kei -

\- Kei hurls himself across the road after Asahi-san, hands trembling, to his brother and his best friend, heart in his mouth and his insides like lead.

And all he is thinking - howling - in his mind - is -

_Please!_

 

**XXXXX**

 

Hitoka can’t seem to move.

She’s staring down at Yamaguchi’s motionless form, at the back of his dark coat, his hair glimmering faintly in the streetlight, and she can’t move. She’s vaguely aware that her heart is slamming in her throat at what feels like a hundred times a minute, that she feels sick to her stomach, that her knees are shaking under her, that tears of shock are prickling the backs of her eyes.

 _No, not now -_ She blinks furiously, still staring down at him. _I - need to be able to see -_

Saeko-nee enters her field of vision, sinking down next to Yamaguchi.

“God -” she gasps, reaching out with unsteady hands. “Yamaguchi, come on - “

Her hands land on his shoulders, and suddenly Hitoka is thinking _no no no_ so frantically she can _taste_ it, because if he doesn’t move - if he’s not - okay - she doesn’t want proof of that, she doesn’t, just let her stay in this moment, let time not move, because if that happens she doesn’t know what she’ll do -

Saeko-nee rolls him onto his side as carefully as she can, and Hitoka manages to force her unruly body to take a step back. The terror is choking her. It feels like all her organs are writhing inside her, ready to pop out if she so much as opens her mouth, and horrible chills ripple up her back.

_Oh, please let him be - a-alive - the blood was -_

Asahi-san appears out of nowhere, on his knees next to Yamaguchi in an instant, and Akiteru is by his side, pulling himself forward on the pavement, wide eyes on Yamaguchi and nothing else.

“Is he -?” And Hitoka has never heard Asahi-san so terrified in her life.

“Breathing,” Saeko-nee says, face still chalk-white. “He’s breathing.”

Asahi-san lets out a huge breath, the lines around his eyes easing just a little, and Akiteru sighs in relief. “Thank god.”

_Breathing._

_He’s alive._

She can move, now; those words unclench her muscles, force her brain to work, and she can feel her fear in its entirety now, but she doesn’t have the time for it. She needs to see for herself, touch him herself, make sure Saeko-nee didn’t make a mistake, that his life didn’t just get snuffed out in front of her eyes.

She stumbles forward, tugging her gloves off and reaching out even before her knees hit the ground. His skin is warm - that’s a good sign, isn’t it? And there’s blood on his head, and he’s not moving, but he’s breathing, she can see the little puffs of mist under his nose. He’s - alive, and they’ll get him to a hospital, and he’ll be fine -

“Is Yamaguchi-nii okay?” It’s like all the fear Hitoka has locked within her has been distilled into Natsu’s voice. “Saeko-nee?”

“Nii-san?” That’s Tsukishima’s voice - when had he got here? - smaller and more unsure than Hitoka has ever heard it. “Asahi-san?”

She won’t look up to reassure him - she knows she can’t even attempt to answer, and she can’t take her eyes away from Yamaguchi’s face, willing him to open his eyes, twitch his mouth, something, anything -

“He’s - he’s alive,” Asahi-san says, looking up at the two of them. “Breathing. He hit his head, and there might be - fractures? I don’t know what exactly - how he’s hurt - “

There’s a brief exhalation of air - once, twice. Then Tsukishima speaks again, curter than before, though his voice is still unsteady. “Okay. Don’t move him, then. Nii-chan, are you okay?”

“I’m fine - “

“ _Nii-chan_.”

“My ankle. Might be broken. But it’s not - “

“Okay. Asahi-san, will you -”

Hitoka glances up then, for a fleeting moment, and sees Asahi-san with a deep frown, his phone to his ear. “I’m already calling the ambulance.”

“Thank you. We need to, hold his head, make sure his ton- his tongue - “ He takes another breath, short and sharp. “ - doesn’t block his airway. Broken bones - did the truck hit his back?”

“I - didn’t see, I was looking at Akiteru - “

“Yes.” The word slips out of Hitoka’s mouth, so soft she’s surprised they hear it. “The b-back of the truck swung around, and - and hit his back. And his head hit the wall.”

There’s a brief silence before Tsukishima is snapping his words out again, and she can, somehow, feel his eyes trained on her. “Got it. Yachi-san, can you take Saeko-san and Natsu back to the _izakaya_? They - ”

Her head snaps up before she even realizes it. “What? I’m not leaving - “

“They need to be in the warm,” he says, eyes boring into hers mercilessly. “They both have scratches that need fixing up, and Saeko-san is not sober. An ambulance will be here soon. This is no place for them. Please help them back.”

“Kei, it’s not -”

“It’s true, nii-chan, and you know it.”

Hitoka’s hands clench, desperately, without her noticing. “Why do _I_ need to - “ How can he ask her to leave? When it’s Yamaguchi, of all people, lying like a corpse on the pavement -

“Yachi-san.” There’s a crack, then, in his voice, and she hears some of the desperation behind his practical words. “Please.”

Hitoka holds his gaze for a long moment, understanding warring against impulse, reason warring against fear, before she takes a shuddering breath and gets to her feet.

“I’m coming back as soon as they’re okay,” she tells him in an unsteady murmur, and he nods slightly.

Natsu’s eyes are wide and fearful, still uncomprehending, but she automatically clutches Hitoka’s hand. Saeko-nee is lighter that she looks, and her arm goes easily over Hitoka’s shoulders. Hitoka gets the feeling she doesn’t really need the support, that she’s just thankful for a warm body to hold. She understands - she feels just a little stronger, a little less debilitated, as she holds them close and crosses the road.

The bell jingles gently, the roar of conversation sweeping over them as they enter. It’s incongruous, to say the least - the cold, bone-chilling fear from outside, and then suddenly cheery warmth, laughter, the clinking of plates and chopsticks, the fact that no one here has any idea that Yamaguchi is unconscious outside, that an ambulance is on its way, that -

 _No, stop, stop it._ Hitoka grits her teeth. _Stop thinking about it, he’ll be fine, the ambulance_ will _get here in time. Get a hold of yourself!_

Saeko-nee slides off her shoulders at a table near the door, quietly burying her face in her arms. Hitoka pauses, hesitating. “Saeko-nee, can-can I get you anything? A cup of tea, or - “

Saeko waves her off. “ ‘ll be fine,” she mumbles into the table. “Look after Natsu.”

Hitoka hesitates, but there’s only enough space in her heart to worry about so many people, and there’s none left over for Saeko-nee right now.

She herds Natsu to the counter, trying to be gentle despite the frantic anxiety buzzing beneath her skin, and lifts her up with a huff, settling her onto the polished wood.

“Okay,” she breathes, taking in Natsu’s face properly for the first time. Her face is streaked with grime, her forehead has a small bruise blooming on it from where she bumped it when Saeko-nee fell after catching her, and her hands have been scraped, even through the mittens. It’s her expression that’s the worst, though, trembling and barely held together. Hitoka’s thrumming heart seems to send a surge of compassion through her body, and it’s all she can do to swallow her tears back once more. But she has to, she has to keep it together for her. She cups Natsu’s face in her cold hands.

“Hey, Natsu-chan, don’t worry. He’ll be okay, he and Akiteru-nii both will be. We’ll - we’ll visit them at the hospital everyday, and bring them flowers and books and so many things they won’t know what to do with them.”

It’s lame reassurance, and Hitoka hates that it’s the best she can come up with. Natsu doesn’t respond, only stares down at her hands, biting her lip fiercely.

Hitoka looks at her helplessly, then turns away to ask Kimura-obaasan for a first aid kit. Having something to do with her hands will help, hopefully. Natsu is still quiet as she opens it, as she tugs her mittens off, as she turns her hands over and carefully begins to pick the gavel out of the shallow wounds. Silent in the face of the wavering chatter Hitoka is trying to hard to keep light and cheerful and hopeful.

The others are starting to notice, to crowd around, and Hitoka cannot bring herself to answer their well meaning questions. Saying it out loud would make it all so much more real, somehow, and she doesn’t have the _time_ , she wants to take care of Natsu and head back out as soon as she can. She needs to see Yamaguchi being placed inside an ambulance and taken to help with her own eyes.

“Did you fall, Natsu-chan? Oh, that looks painful.”

“Did you fall off Akiteru-san’s shoulders? I hope not, that’s pretty high - “

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“Where are the others? Yachi-san?”

“Yachi-san, are you okay?”

“Natsu, what happened? I turn my back for one minute - “

“Did something - “

“Stop!” Hitoka cries, louder than she means to, and a hush falls over them. “I’m sorry, just - please don’t -”

Natsu sniffles, and she realizes, with growing horror, that she’s been clumsy, yanked a sharp piece out a little too hard.

“Oh, Natsu-chan - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - did I hurt you very badly? I’m sorry - “

But Natsu’s been set off, now, and she either can’t or won’t stop. The sniffles turn into sobs, and then loud howls, muffled when she hides her face in Hitoka’s shoulder. Hitoka pats her back, soothes her as best she can, refraining from crying with her for what seems like the hundredth time.

“I’m sorry, Natsu-chan, I’m so sorry I hurt you. Don’t cry, okay? It’s okay, they’ll be okay. Just - will you let me finish? I’ll do it as good as I can, and then I can go out and see what’s going on - ”

That catches Natsu’s attention. She leans back and allows Hitoka to wipe her hands with antiseptic, crying so constantly Hitoka can’t tell if any of it has to do with the sting. She holds a hanky up for her to blow her nose, smooths band-aids across the scratches, and sticks one on her forehead for good measure. She hears murmurs in the background - Daichi-san’s low rumble, Tanaka-san’s sharp tones, talking to his sister - and she hears the door opening and closing more than once, but Hinata is hovering worriedly by her shoulder as she works and she can’t turn to look before she’s done.

“There, now we’re - we’re all set -” She snaps the box shut, fingers restless on the clasps. “I didn’t miss anything, did I? Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Natsu rubs at her face, eyes red-rimmed and exhausted. “Where’s the ambulance?” she whispers.

The cold clutch of fear steals up Hitoka’s neck once more. “I’m - I’m sure it’ll be here soon, sweetheart - “

“It’s been too long!” Natsu sobs. “It’s my fault, it’s my - I shouldn’t have - Akiteru-nii almost - “

Hitoka pulls her into a hard hug, biting her lip as her eyes grow misty. _I won’t cry, I won’t cry -_

“Hush, of course it isn’t your fault. Natsu, listen, they both will be just fine. Neither of them got hit head on, right? The ambulance will be here soon, and -”

The room is silent as she’s talking, apart from Tanaka-san and Saeko-nee in the corner, and she hates how her voice is shaking, hates that they can all hear it and that because of it Natsu won’t believe her - how could she, when Hitoka doesn’t even believe herself?

“ - and they’ll go to the hospital, and they’ll get the best care and they’ll be just fine before you know it. It hasn’t been that long, don’t worry.”

_It has, it has, she’s right, where is it? Why isn’t it here yet?_

“Hitoka-nee,” Natsu sniffles, burying her head in her shirt. “I’m so scared.”

A hard lump coalesces in Hitoka’s throat. “I know,” she whispers, hugging Natsu close. “Oh, I know, I am too, I’m so scared. But I know they’ll be okay. We need to believe that - that they’ll be okay.”

Natsu nods a little, and Hitoka pats her head once more before she steps back, trying to pull herself together. “Okay . . . okay, Natsu-chan, your brother is going to take you home. I’ll tell you what happens as soon as I know - “

“What?” Natsu looks up. “No, I wanna come to the hospital!”

“Sweetie, there’s - there’s nothing you can do by being there, and you’re tired and hurt and your parents need to know you’re safe -”

“I can call them! I’ll talk to them - “

“ - and this is serious! Yamaguchi’s parents need to be called in, and so do Tsukishima’s, and it’s going to be busy and stressful and there’s no place for you there, Natsu!”

_So you think there’s a place for you, then?_

Hitoka has never raised her voice with Natsu, ever. Not all the time she’s known her -

_You’re planning on going when what you just told her applies to you as well?_

\- she hates that it had to happen now, this way, but she’s tired and terrified and she needs to know that Yamaguchi is still breathing and she’s stretched thin, like she could snap any second with anxiety. She just - can’t.

_You think he’d want you there? You couldn’t even touch him to make sure he was still alive before Saeko-nee got there!_

Natsu’s face screws up in hurt and shock. Hitoka knows there’s another round of tears coming, and the guilt writhing in her chest multiplies instantly.

“Natsu, I’m sorry I was so harsh - listen to me - but you can’t, I’m sorry, but you can’t - “

_What kind of friend are you to him? You couldn’t do anything when he needed you the most._

“- don’t cry, Natsu, _please -_ “

“Let me, Yachi-san.” Hinata shoulders past her, for once with tight lips and soft, serious eyes, not a hint of cheerfulness on his face.

She steps back obediently. Hinata’s smile flickers on his face like an old lightbulb as he tries to calm his sister down, and Akiyama moves to stand next to him, his voice gentle as he rubs circles over Natsu’s shoulder with his thumb.

_You don’t deserve to go, you don’t have the right -_

“Stop it,” she whispers to herself under her trembling breath. _I_ need _to go, it doesn’t matter if I should or not, there’s no way I can stay behind with this uncertainty, this fear -_

“Yacchan?”

She turns. Tanaka-san looks more grim than she’s ever seen him, and Suga-san next to him is tapping his hip restlessly.

“Nee-san isn’t saying much, but from what she did tell me -”

“Tanaka,” Suga-san says quietly, reprovingly. “We won’t make you talk if you don’t want to, Yacchan. Daichi’s gone outside anyway, he’ll be back soon, and we can ask him what we need to know. But if you need to talk - if we can get you tea or water or anything, just let us know, and -”

There’s a faint wail in the air, filtering through the closed windows, the thick air, and Hitoka whips around instantly.

_It’s here!_

“I’m fine, Suga-san, honestly, I don’t need anything - I just need to - “ She quickly ducks past them, past the others behind them, and hurries outside still tugging up one boot, her jacket askew and her hat forgotten.

The sound is much louder outside, cutting through the night like a knife, but she has eyes only for the small group on the other side of the road. The ambulance is turning the corner up the road when she reaches them.

“How -” she gasps. “Is he - are they -”

“Still breathing,” Tsukishima answers curtly.

 _Still breathing_. It sounds reassuring and ominous at the same time, and it makes her bite her lip painfully hard.

Daichi is crouched by Akiteru’s side, talking to him fast, his tone serious. Akiteru is answering in the same tone, only his clenched fists betraying how much pain he’s in. Asahi is carefully keeping Yamaguchi’s head tilted a little to the side, his face drawn, and Tsukishima is staring at the ambulance as though he can make it arrive faster by sheer strength of will.

Harsh red light begins to flicker across their faces soon enough, and it’s not fifteen seconds more before the ambulance pulls up next to them, the siren still wailing. The doors slam open, a stretcher is yanked out, and paramedics in fluorescent vests hurry out, bustling with efficiency. Asahi and Tsukishima step aside immediately. Dachi moves back as one paramedic kneels to question Akiteru, then slips her shoulder under his, helping him limp to the back of the ambulance.

Hitoka has to look away as they shift Yamaguchi onto the stretcher. They lift him like he weighs nothing and dump him like he’s a sack of rocks - or so it seems to her. They’re wheeling the stretcher back in when one of the paramedics comes up to them.

“Were any of you here to see what happened?” she asks.

“The three of us were,” Asahi replies, gesturing to Hitoka and Tsukishima. “And Akiteru, whom you just helped inside.”

“I see. Are any of you kin to either of the injured?”

“The unconscious one doesn’t have siblings. I’m the other one’s brother.”

Hitoka doesn’t think she’s ever heard Tsukishima sound more clinical, not even when he’s listing all the reasons Kageyama and Hinata are likely to fail their exams.

“Are you the first one’s classmate? Friend?”

“Both.”

“You can inform both sets of parents?”

“Yes.”

“Good, please do that, then. We’ll be heading to the East University Hospital, and we’ll need kin there to fill in the necessary forms. Police will probably want to speak to at least one out of the three of you as well, given that this was a hit and run.”

“Understood.”

She nodded briskly. “I don’t think your brother and friend are in critical danger - keep your chins up, all of you, yes? You, _megane_ -kun, would you like to accompany us to the hospital?”

Tsukishima’s fists trembled by his side. “Very much, yes.”

“May I come as well?” Asahi says quickly.

The paramedic gave Asahi a long, appraising look. “You’re a classmate?”

“Senpai, and friend.”

“Hm. Yeah, okay. We should just about have enough space. Come on, we don’t have time to waste.”

Tsukishima begins to climb in immediately, Asahi close on his heels as the paramedic makes her way around to the front of the ambulance.

_Wait -_

“Tsukishima, wait, I want to -”

But he either doesn’t hear or won’t, and it seems like only a second passes before the doors slam shut and the ambulance is peeling away, siren wailing louder than ever. Hitoka stares after it, mouth dry. Surely the tears will come pouring out now, with the frustration starting to bubble in her chest, amplifying her fear.

_I should have spoken louder, I should have - of course they didn’t think to ask me, they both are just as worried as I am, and it was selfish and stupid of me to expect - so what do I do now? Do I have the right to go on my own? Can I - ?_

She jumps as a warm hand settles on her shoulder, and looks up into Daichi’s tight face. His voice is steady, though, when he speaks.

“Let’s go inside, Yacchan.”

“I don’t - I want - Daichi- _san_ \- “

“I know.” And the thing is, he looks so much like a really, truly does know, that he feels exactly the same way as her and hates it just as much as she does, that she follows him back without further protest.

Inside is - a blur. Hushed voices, shocked and worried, rising every so often when someone exclaims or forgets to keep their voice down. Warm light, spilling over into yellow smudges on the back of her eyelids when she blinks. The blur is muted, and that’s good, it keeps the clawing fear, the pain under some kind of control. All she cares about is going to the hospital - to be the first to hear any news at all, to wait, to listen, to pray that everything turns out okay. To keep vigil, she supposes, and she knows it can’t possibly change anything but she needs to go like she needs to breathe.

They’re on their way soon enough. East University is only fifteen minutes away by bus, and they take up half the seats. More than half the seats. Hinata isn’t there, and neither is Natsu, because they’re waiting at the _izakaya_ for their parents to pick them up. And Saeko isn’t there either, for the same reason (Hitoka doesn’t know if she can’t or won’t drive her bike). But still . . . Noya-san is there, and Tanaka-san is there, and Serizawa-kun is there, and just those three should be enough to cause a ruckus that would cause the bus driver to contemplate telling them all to get off. But nobody speaks, and the silence is suffocating as the bus rumbles down the road.

And then she ends up stuck in a white waiting room, in a steel chair with curved arms and an uncomfortable seat with tiny holes patterned on it, and she’s staring at her hands and her chest feels like it might burst from how badly she needs to know what’s going on. The buzzing under her skin is horrible, and the only way she thinks she can get rid of it is by seeing Yamaguchi’s face -

_\- washed pale with moonlight on the bank of the river as he laughs -_

_\- twisted with nervousness the first time he gets subbed in -_

_\- eyes focused, mouth firm as he tosses the ball up to serve -_

_\- tentative, but still with smiling eyes crinkling as he tells her all the ways he gets nervous, too -_

_\- blank and white and still under streetlights, freckles standing out and his breath barely a puff in the cold air -_

She needs to see his face _alive,_ and flushed with blood. Even if he has an oxygen mask or something, she just needs to know. She just needs to see.

Kinoshita asks her where she’s going when she walks past, and she tells him to get a drink from a vending machine. He smiles sadly and nods a little before returning to his low conversation with Ennoshita, and Hitoka slips out of the waiting room, thankful that that was all it took.

She wanders the corridors, floor by floor. She doesn’t think the people at the desk will tell her where Yamaguchi or Akiteru are. Why, she’s not really sure, but somehow she doesn’t think they will. So she wanders, trying not to run, trying to keep her breathing even, and when someone asks her where she’s going she smiles, as much as she can, and says she’s looking for a friend. Sometimes they shrug, sometimes they nod, sometimes they tell her to turn around and go the other way. Most people ignore her.

She finds Asahi-san on the third floor, in a chair at the end of a short corridor. His head is resting in one hand, and he’s staring down at the screen of his phone.

She sits down next to him, and when he looks up he gives her a wan smile.

“Hey, Yacchan.”

Her voice feels creaky, locked in her throat, though she was yelling at Natsu not half an hour ago. She swallows. “Hey. Do you - do you know how - ?”

“Akiteru-san snapped a couple of ligaments, twisted his ankle pretty badly. He’s getting patched up downstairs. Yamaguchi . . . they did a brief exam, said that apart from some massive bruises on his back and some scratches here and there, there don’t seem to be any injuries. But he probably has a concussion. He still hadn’t woken up, last I heard, and they were going to do an MRI.”

“Oh.” It’s all she can think to say, and it doesn’t express at all how grateful she is for the measure of relief he’s just given her.

“Tsukishima called his mother on the way here. Before he called his own parents.”

“Where _is_ Tsukishima?”

“Talking to the police somewhere. He said he remembered the number on the truck.”

Hitoka looks up at that, a small bubble of hope rising to join the relief. “He does?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“The driver . . . must have been drunk. I mean, we were all waving, and the signal was red, and it wasn’t like it was hard to see that there was someone in the road.”

“ . . . Maybe. Did - the doctor say when we might know more?”

“An hour.”

“From now?”

“Mm.”

Silence falls between them, amplified rather than disturbed by the distant chatter, the faint beeping of machines, the clacking of shoes and squeaking of rolling wheels on tile. There’s nothing to do, now. Nothing either of them can do but wait, as patiently as they can manage.

Hitoka takes a deep breath, clasping one hand over the other tightly. Asahi was there too, he saw what happened, and he only looks tired and worried, not frightened. It’s vaguely reassuring, and though it won’t do anything to stop the frantic way her heart is fluttering against her ribs, she can slump back and resign herself to waiting more easily than before.

Asahi’s thumb is swiping in quick strokes over a keyboard displayed on the screen of his phone. Messages, she registers absently, staring at the dark blue, sparkling polish Natsu had applied on his nails not two hours ago. Messages to what seems like fifty different people, urgent and hasty and riddled with typos.

She can’t say how long she stays like that, just watching him type through bleary eyes. It could be ten minutes or twenty, and her mind drifts away, automatically trying to sort through the events of the night.

She tries to pull it back, when she realizes what’s happening. She doesn’t want to think, she doesn’t want to feel, she just wants to stay here and wait to hear that Yamaguchi is going to be okay. But the decision to do that is snatched away when she notices something -

The polish that Natsu had applied so delicately, so precisely, is chipped. A neat, almost triangular flake is missing from the inner corner of the nail, and there is a distinct crack running from the edge almost to the cuticle.

And that is enough.

It’s stupid, the stupidest thing ever, and Hitoka hates it so much, hates that this is all it takes, but suddenly she’s -

\- back there, on that sidewalk under harsh light. She’s gasping as Yamaguchi dashes across the road, yelping when he collides with Akiteru, breathing out hard and relieved when they reach the pavement. Yamaguchi stumbles before he gets his balance, before meeting her gaze, and when he does the edges of his mouth just start to turn up in a smile.

And then there’s a soft _wham_ as the side of the truck swings around and slams into Yamaguchi’s back. Her hands are over her mouth as he’s sent flying forward, too harsh and too sudden, like he weighs nothing more than a ragdoll.

But that’s not the worst. The worst, the _worst_ , is when he hits the wall headfirst, and she _hears_ it. It’s short and dull, like a stick breaking under a layer of leaves, and it’s the sickest sound she’s ever heard in her life.

And then he’s sagging, and crumpling, and there’s blood on the concrete and too many screams locked in her throat that she can’t get out -

The fingers of one hand dig into the flesh of her upper arm, and the other hand steals up over her mouth as she tries to stop her shoulders from shaking. Asahi is standing up, saying something about going to check with the doctor, and she can only nod blindly, praying for him to leave already because she can’t keep the tears down, not this time.

He places a light hand on her shoulder as he walks past, and that only makes it worse. He probably hasn’t even turned the corner before she’s burying her head in her knees, doing her best to muffle herself - no, he must have, because if he’d heard the horrible noises she’s making he’d have surely come back. Her whole body is shuddering, every breath is a struggle, and she’s choking and spluttering and making a mess of her jeans. She kind of wants to scream, heartrendingly, piercingly, like actors in movies when someone falls over a cliff or something, because at least that might relieve some of the terrible pressure in her chest that refuses to go away.

She can’t stop, now that she’s started. Every time she thinks she might be about to calm down, she flashes back to Yamaguchi’s bloodstreaked face, or Akiteru’s twisted expression, or the way Tsukishima had screamed when the truck had been hurtling down the road, or Natsu’s tear-filled eyes, and she’s crying again, loud and ugly and gasping.

She’s too tired to count how many times it happens. It’s easier to just wait for the next one bout to hit, and she’s doing just that for the fifth - seventh, tenth? - time when soft footsteps pad towards her, halting in front of where she’s sitting.

She wipes her nose hastily, trying to blink the tears away so she can at least see who it is. When she looks up, a small puncture of surprise manages to make it past the knot of emotion doing its best to choke her.

“Kag-Kageyama?”

He shifts from one foot to another, scrutinizing her face with sharp eyes before looking away uncertainly. “Um. You left your bag back there, and I. Think your phone was ringing?”

“Oh.” She sniffs, dragging her sleeve across her face again before holding her hand out for her bag. “Thanks, Kageyama.”

He continues to fidget, looking everywhere but at her face, and Hitoka can’t bring herself to help him out, ask him what’s wrong or something, she really can’t. She looks down again, fishing a handkerchief out of her bag to mop up at least as much of the mess on her face as she can.

“Um, Yachi-san - “

She looks up just in time to catch him crouch quickly, gaze now meeting hers steadily, if a little nervously.

“How - how can I help?”

Her mouth drops open. Not ‘Are you okay’ or ‘Everything will be fine’ or ‘Don’t worry, they’ll make it’. Just ‘How can I help?’

She probably scares him when she slides bonelessly off the chair to drape herself on his shoulder and sob into it, if the ginger way he pats her back is any indication; and they must look so weird, both of them kneeling in the middle of the corridor, one hugging the other tenaciously and crying like the world is ending. But at some point, he hugs her back, one hand carefully stroking the back of her head, like he’s decided that if this is all he can do he’s going to do it well.

And it helps - god, does it help. She’s never been so grateful for a hug in her life, for the warmth and just having someone to hold when it feels so much like she’s crumbling inside. And for the first time that night, she thinks things might actually - just maybe - turn out okay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the week’s break brings to you this hurtfest. I’m so sorry to do this to my best girl (also it was so hard to write her sad and hurting, what is a terrified Yachi? It does not compute).  
> Criticism is very welcome! Still iffy with the style, but there’s only so many times I can proofread before my eyes start skipping things in defense. Feel free to be as nitpicky as you like ^.^


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